A Convenient Fiction
by Morgan72uk
Summary: The Governors have decided that the new Head of Hogwarts has to be married. This is going to get complicated.
1. Chapter 1

Title: A Convenient Fiction

Author: Morgan72uk

Rating: T

Summary: The Governors have decided that the new Headmaster of Hogwarts has to be married. This is going to get complicated.

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, don't have any money.

A/N - I know it's a fanfiction cliche. But the idea for this story wouldn't leave me alone.

**A Convenient Fiction - **Part 1

"I assume this is an attempt at humour?" The voice was deceptively mild and had Armando Dippet not known the man standing before him he would likely have made the grievous error of not taking the comment seriously. But, the Headmaster of Hogwarts had known his Deputy for many years – and he only needed to look at Albus Dumbledore to see the barely suppressed rage glinting in his eyes.

"Albus, I assure you the Governors are entirely serious." He gestured to the scroll that lay open on his desk where it had been discarded in irritation only moments before. "You are their favoured candidate to become Headmaster when I retire at the end of the school year. But, they also insist that the next Head of this school is married."

"They are being ridiculous." Armando didn't disagree – but he was too discrete to respond to the comment. Instead he said mildly,

"They are concerned about the potential for scandal."

"I have never behaved inappropriately. My private life is just that – private. I am deeply insulted by the implication that my marital status is more important than my character."

"I know," he sighed, "and I'm sorry. I did argue your case – but there have been changes in the Board of Governors over the last few years. I don't think I took account of how deeply conservative they had become."

He watched with concern as Albus walked to the windows of the Headmaster's study and gazed out at the sprawling grounds. He believed that the man standing before him was the only person who could succeed him – and he also believed that the school desperately needed Dumbledore's leadership. But, the Governors had been adamant and Albus' reaction had been all too predictable. There didn't seem to be any way out of this mess.

"There must be a way," he said, hoping to engage the formidable Dumbledore brain in problem solving. "Arranged marriages are not common these days – but perhaps, in this situation…?"

"I have never been comfortable with the idea of having a wife picked for me – of having someone chosen because of bloodlines, or family connections."

"And yet, it could be the solution to your problems."

"I am not marrying someone just to get this job Armando – I'm sorry, but I intend to tell the Governors that I am withdrawing my application to become Headmaster."

"Just take some time – think about it. There must be a solution – I don't wish to pry into your personal life, I know how private you are and I know that you worry that any woman you become involved with will become a target for your enemies. But I have to ask, is there someone you're close to, romantically?"

"There's no one." Dumbledore said firmly and although Dippet didn't quite believe his swift denial, he decided to leave the subject alone.

"Just give yourself a few days Albus, please. I am sure you know how keen I am for you to be my successor. There has to be a way my friend – and we will find it." Albus nodded, but as he left the study his shoulders were slumped in defeat.

"That's the most stupid thing I have ever heard!" Minerva had greeted the news of the Governors' decision with an outrage that was most gratifying. He was normally amused when she let her temper show from behind the formidable barriers of her strict persona and, despite the predicament he found himself in, he couldn't quite stop himself from smiling

"I fear your opportunity to take over from me as Transfiguration Professor may be postponed indefinitely my dear."

"Albus, you know I don't care about that."

"But your career," he murmured, thinking of someone else for the first time in an hour. After all, he had lured her here with the promise that if he were to become Headmaster the post he currently occupied would likely become hers – and though she might deny it, he was sure she had every intention of replacing him as Head of Gryffindor as well.

"If it comes to it, there will be a vacancy to teach Transfiguration at Durmstrang in a couple of years. I am sure the Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts would give me an excellent reference."

"I believe he would." But the thought of her so far away, was not one he was comfortable with. He had taught her, briefly, as a student – before leaving to take up the fight against Grindelwald. When he returned she had graduated and he had given little thought to her until a friend had asked him to become a thesis advisor to a most promising postgraduate student.

He had been delighted to discover the student in question had attended Hogwarts – and the time he spent supervising her thesis had been both enjoyable and challenging. He had followed her subsequent academic career with great interest, they had corresponded often and she had consulted him on both of the papers she had published to what constituted great acclaim in the academic circles of the wizarding world. Only when she had come to teach at Hogwarts almost ten years ago had they really got to know each other as anything approaching equals and now he considered her his closest friend and confidante.

"What is the Headmaster planning to do to rectify this situation?" She asked – disturbing his reverie.

"He isn't sure – the Governors are, apparently, not to be swayed. I refuse to consider an arranged marriage – it would seem we are at an impasse."

"Not quite." He looked at her, inquiringly, wondering what she could possibly have thought of that both he and Armando had missed. "You could marry me." It was the first time in years that Albus Dumbledore had found himself at a loss for words.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

A/N - thanks for the reviews etc. Disclaimer in Ch 1

A Convenient Fiction – part 2

Minerva couldn't help thinking that for a brilliant man Albus was being painfully slow in seeing the benefits of – well, her proposal. Perhaps just springing it on him like that hadn't been the most strategic of approaches. But, he had been so dispirited and she'd wanted to help. However, once he'd got over his shock at her suggestion he had adamantly refused to consider it. She sighed – wishing that he wasn't being so incredibly stubborn and that there was an easier way to overcome his pride.

With the tone she usually reserved for her most recalcitrant and challenging students she stated her position again, ticking the points off on her fingers while trying to remain as calm as possible.

"The fact that you're married and the identity of your wifemust remain a secret from most people. Neither of us have any other relationships to consider, so there are no third parties who could be hurt. We already spend a great deal of our free time together, which will make it easier for those who need to know about our relationship to be convinced by it. We're friends, so it will be much less awkward for us to pretend to be in love when we need to. This situation isn't going to effect my life in the slightest – frankly I don't understand why you won't let me help you become Headmaster of Hogwarts."

"As always your logic is unassailable my dear." He'd been gazing into the depths of his teacup while he spoke – as though he expected there to be answers there. And though she held divination in low regard, she supposed if anyone were able to get a message out of the remains of a cup of tea then it would be Albus. "Our friendship is important to me – have you considered that this charade might destroy it?"

"Do you have so little faith in our friendship?" She countered, slightly hurt by his comment. "I understand why a marriage of convenience with someone you don't know wouldn't be acceptable to you, but surely our friendship is the reason we could make this work?"

"I don't know." She could sense that he was wavering and was quick to follow up with the next part of her argument.

"If not for yourself, will you at least consider the greater good? I believe that after Armando's," she paused, searching for a word that would not be too critical of Hogwart's current Headmaster, "frailty, this school needs your leadership. We need to look forwards, not backwards, we need to modernise the curriculum, make sure that our pupils are prepared for whatever they may face in the outside world. Only you can do this."

His expression said that he wasn't comfortable with her flattery, but crucially he didn't dispute her analysis. He had spent too many nights, over chess and hot chocolate, telling her of his plans for the school if he were ever to have the opportunity to take over from Armando. With a heavy sigh he looked at her for the first time since she had made her suggestion.

"You're still young Minerva, I worry that by tying you into such a marriage I may be denying you the opportunity for a family, a more normal relationship." She knew that at his words her face had revealed her feelings, if only for a split second. And she knew that he had seen it. Resolutely she pushed away the old pain and made sure that her voice was completely steady when she spoke.

"I don't anticipate any romantic developments in my future Albus. But, if it will make you feel better, then I suggest we agree that if either of us meet someone we feel seriously about, then our marriage will come to an end. Since it won't be consummated an annulment shouldn't be a problem."

There was no doubt that she was determined and he couldn't fault the logic of her solution. He knew that she had been badly hurt when her previous relationship had ended a number of years before – and he believed her when she said she wasn't interested in meeting anyone else. Her businesslike approach to the whole situation was both amusing and reassuring and Albus felt a flicker of excitement for the first time since Armando had told him of the Governors' decision. Optimistically he decided that if anyone could make this work then it was the two of them.

"Very well Minerva, I accept your proposal, with thanks."

For a moment she was stunned, not sure she had really expected to succeed in persuading him. But then she nodded with familiar briskness.

"I think, unless you object that it would make sense if we were married before the new school year starts. That way we can make sure the Governors' have their concerns appeased and we will have a little time to get used to our, arrangement, before the students arrive. That gives us a little under 2 weeks, not much time, but since we are planning a very small wedding – not impossible. As I see it, the main difficulty will be finding someone we trust to perform the ceremony." He shook his head, trying to keep up with her – after all this was not how one usually planned a wedding.

"I believe I know of someone – I will owl him immediately and see if he is willing."

"Very well – shall we say next weekend?"

"That would be acceptable." There seemed to one final thing left to discuss, "Minerva, I think it would be wise if no one but you and I knew the true nature of our agreement. Other people will need to know that we are married, but I would prefer it if they thought that our marriage was, genuine."

"I would prefer that as well." She held her hand out to him – offering it to seal their bargain. As he took it he decided that a handshake was not quite appropriate under the circumstances and instead raised her hand to his lips and brushed a light kiss across her knuckles.

"There are no words to express my gratitude," he murmured, still bent over her hand. She blushed, pulled her hand away and told him not to be so foolish. But she seemed momentarily uncomfortable, making his realise that despite their years of friendship he really didn't know Minerva McGonagall at all.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3 

In a cave at the base of a cliff, with the roaring of the sea echoing all around them, the Seer of Islay reflected that in his long lifetime he had performed many marriages. Before him had stood strong couples who were destined to be together, couples whose love for each other was all but tangible and couples who appeared to be madly in love – but whose marriage, he knew, was doomed from the outset. But never, in any of those years had he presided over a wedding quite so, unusual as this one. For once it seemed his inner eye, his ability to see the future of the couple before him had deserted him.

He had been delighted to learn that the strongest wizard of the age was to be married again – and this time to a witch from an ancient and noble family. As she stood before him, in a regrettably sombre set of robes, he knew that Minerva McGonagall was a witch of great ability. He also knew that, although she did not believe it, she was every inch as beautiful as her mother and grandmother had been.

He watched them carefully – at first sight the happy couple were both calm and resolute. But, close up she was pale and stiff and the famous Dumbledore twinkle was missing from his eyes. Clearly the setting and the beginning of the ceremony had focussed their minds on the seriousness of the undertaking they were embarking on.

He could feel their affection for one another, the closeness and trust that pervaded their relationship. But, beyond that there were barriers – as though neither of them had completely given their heart to this union. And that gave him cause for concern.

He started the incantation - speaking the ancient words in this most ancient of places. The waves crashed around them, the cave booming with sound and with shadows. The air was alive with powerful magic – more palpable than he had expected. At the climax of the ceremony the newly married couple tapped the tips of their wands together and at the moment of contact, a startlingly bright flash of light engulfed them all.

The seer hadn't ever witnessed anything quite like it, and he was relived that his sight hadn't deserted him after all. In the centre of that flash of light he saw their path, saw the twists and turns – only the destination eluded him. One way or another, he was absolutely certain that they would be back.

They apparated to Hogsmeade and began the walk back to the school in silence. Dumbledore couldn't help thinking that they were both a little dazed from the ceremony; from the wedding he reminded himself. Glancing to his right he looked at the woman walking beside him, her hands shoved into the pockets of her robes, her gaze focused firmly ahead of her. She had suddenly become that most indefinable of things - his wife.

His mind flitted back to the moment in the cave, to the light that had been so entirely unexpected that no one had mentioned it since. But, he couldn't just ignore what had happened, couldn't and wouldn't. He opened his mouth to speak and was disconcerted to find Minerva's gaze resting on him.

"Just checking I still recognise you," she said with a flash of the dry humour that so few people got to witness. "Everything seems – different. I wasn't expecting that."

"Are you sorry? Because we can go back to the island and…"

"Albus," she stopped walking and laid her hand on his arm, "I'm not sorry, it just feels – strange. It will take more getting used to than I'd anticipated. I'm not accustomed to having a husband. And," she frowned, the humour vanishing, "what happened at the ceremony threw me a little."

"It threw me as well, but perhaps we shouldn't have been surprised. It's a very old incantation, the magic is strong, and obviously it magnified our powers."

"Your power," she corrected him gently, but he shook his head.

"Our powers – the wands touched after all. Obviously I should have chosen a different ceremony. I never intended to make you uncomfortable."

"I know," she smiled, just a little and put her arm through the crook of his. "It certainly made for a memorable wedding." He was relieved that he'd managed to put her concerns to rest and felt only slightly guilty that he hadn't shared the details of the brief conversation he'd had with the seer. It was ridiculous anyway – it was a marriage of convenience, nothing more.

"Tomorrow we have to face Armando," he said, changing the subject, "will we convince him do you think?"

"Of course we will!" He had to laugh at that, amused at her indignant tone and the idea that she was viewing this as one more challenge for her formidable mind to overcome.

She looked annoyed for a split second – but then a remarkable thing happened, her mouth curved into a broad smile and she released all of the day's tension in a glorious peel of laughter. It didn't happen very often and it transformed her. Joy bubbled through him at the realisation that he had made his dear friend relax this much and he pulled her into an impulsive hug, spinning her round with boyish enthusiasm before setting her back down and stepping away.

"Albus!" She brushed herself down and almost succeeded in looking cross.

"Just getting into character my dear." He smiled winningly at her and she muttered something he couldn't quite hear but which definitely included the word "impossible."

Looping her arm through his once more they began to walk back to the castle. "How about supper and a game of chess later? One last chance to get our stories straight?"

"That's a good idea – with your tendency to extemporise we could certainly use the practice." He was pleased to see a smile still lurking around her lips; this would be so much easier if they didn't lose their sense of humour.

"Of course, it won't be the most traditional of wedding nights." He looked at her over the top of his spectacles and the glare she shot him would have quelled a lesser wizard.

"You're enjoying this!" She hissed – something he had no intention of denying. But, he should have known she wouldn't let him win. "If you're interested in non-traditional events I suggest you concentrate your efforts on trying to beat me at chess."

"It's tactics," he sniffed – his losing streak was something he preferred not to be reminded of. "I'm merely luring you into a false sense of security before I pounce."

Too late he realised that his remark could have an entirely different connotation, and when he felt her stiffen he knew that she had realised it too. He shivered, though the afternoon was warm but it was she who rescued the moment.

"Of course you are my dear." She patted him on the hand and the subject was dropped. Again he reminded himself that this was just a way around the Governors demands. She was his friend, he was grateful to her; there was nothing more to it than that.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

A/N - thanks for the reviews. I'm glad people have enjoyed the story so far - let's see where the twists and turns take us!

A Convenient Fiction – part 4

Minerva stood in a shaft of sunlight, her arms wrapped loosely around her waist as she summoned calm and confidence from within. In just a few minutes Albus would be here and it would be time to face Armando. In these final moments she was going over the story they had decided upon, trying to make it sound convincing but not over-rehearsed.

Perhaps she was worrying unnecessarily. But for someone as naturally reserved as she, it would always be challenging to discuss her feelings with a third party. And then when you considered that the feelings in question were – well, fictional – it was hardly surprising that she was worried at her ability to carry off the act.

But she wouldn't be pretending with just anyone. Albus was her friend, the person she trusted the most. In her more optimistic moments she thought that would make it easier to persuade Armando that close friends had fallen in love. The rest of the time she wasn't so sure. If they could convince someone who knew them both as well as Armando did, then the few other people who needed to be told should present little difficulty. They simply had to make Armando believe.

She was still amazed by the way they'd pulled together the story of their relationship. They'd agreed to build as much as possible on the truth, which left them hoping that the Headmaster would find it all too easy to believe they had fallen in love over chess and quiet suppers.

Albus had done most of the making up. She couldn't help thinking it was a good idea that he was going to become Headmaster, since if the ease and enthusiasm with which he had concocted their fictional romance was anything to go by, he didn't have anything like enough to engage his mind at the moment.

"I hate it when you watch me from the shadows," she said when she felt a familiar tingle on the back of her neck.

"My skulking is never any match for your feline senses," Albus stood beside her and laid his hand on her shoulder. "Are you ready?" The comfortable familiarity of his presence was a warm, reassuring glow. The slight hint of nervousness she detected in him was a welcome reminder that she was not in this alone. Even his touch was a comfort of sorts – as well as a preparation. They would have to touch far more than they normally did if they wanted Armando to believe they were newly married.

"As much as I will ever be."

"There's nothing to worry about Minerva. We are married, even if Armando doesn't entirely believe our story, he can't dispute that."

"That's so – reassuring." He chuckled and squeezed her shoulder before turning her around to look at him.

"You've already done more for me than I can ever repay. I know that you hate dishonesty – I won't let you pretend more than you can bear. We don't need to become other people; Armando won't be expecting that. When people fall in love they don't lose themselves, they don't change, it isn't about possession – it's about loving someone for who they are." His words were meant as solace, but they also conjured up unhappy memories. She didn't need the reminder that her life had been a very long way from the picture he was describing.

"Minerva?" She looked away, but wasn't surprised that he'd caught a glimpse of her pain.

"What you describe sounds wonderful Albus – but it wasn't my experience. However, I appreciate the thought. Now, you shouldn't keep our Headmaster waiting."

"Are you all right?"

"Of course I am."

He didn't entirely believe her – she could tell that from the way his eyes searched her face. Pale, inscrutable eyes which were always so knowing, always so kind. His scrutiny had never disarmed her; it had never bothered her that he saw further into her mind and heart than other people. But her own vulnerability was something she was not comfortable with, even though she knew he'd never use it against her – even if sometimes she needed more than kindness, more than gentleness – something altogether more…

"Minerva?" She blinked; abruptly realising she had been gazing at Albus, thinking the most unlikely of thoughts.

"Sorry, I was miles away."

"Obviously," he turned to climb the staircase towards the Headmaster's study. "The flush to your cheeks is very becoming my dear – especially in a new bride. Do you think you'll be able to keep it there until I come to 'introduce' you to Armando?"

Damn him. His expression and voice made it almost impossible to tell if he was being serious. As her cheeks burned the one thing she was certain of was that when he returned, she would still be blushing.

"Albus," Armando Dippet smiled as his Deputy stepped into the study. He was relieved that he looked more cheerful than the last time they'd met and that had to be good. Summer at Hogwarts was always somewhat relaxed and several days had passed since he'd last spoken to his Deputy. The owl he'd received the previous evening asking for an appointment had intrigued him, he knew it couldn't be about the timetable or the arrangements for the start of term.

Now, he could see there was a twinkle in his Deputy's eyes once more – mischief and unholy glee waging a war with solemnity. He had accepted that he would never fully understand the wizard before him, he doubted anyone alive would. Whenever they conversed he was always sure that Albus, while paying full attention, was also simultaneously thinking about 4 or 5 different things. It was extraordinary how he sifted through information – finding the missing pieces to puzzles no one else even suspected the existence of. He would make a wonderful, if enigmatic, Headmaster and Armando was sure that was what he was here about.

With any luck he had found a way around the Governors' ridiculous suggestion. Perhaps a clause in an ancient document that would demonstrate they were acting outside their powers.

"Armando. I'm here to tell you that I was married yesterday."

Or, perhaps not. For several moments the Headmaster of Hogwarts was without the power of speech. In truth he knew he looked most undignified sitting there with his mouth open in shock. But what other response was possible?

"Married?" He repeated slowly when the power of speech returned. His brain jumped to the logical conclusion because, after all, arranged marriages took longer than this to – well, arrange. "But you said there was no one!" he accused.

Before him Albus shifted, looking a little sheepish. "Yes, I know I said that," he began slowly.

"Clearly it was a case of protesting too much." Armando concluded, enjoying his Deputy's momentary discomfort. "Well, I suppose congratulations are in order – will I get to meet the lady in question?"

"Actually, I believe you've met her already," but before he could speculate about that Albus continued, "my concerns about the risk to anyone I'm close to haven't dissipated Armando. I need your word that only a few people will ever know about this. Not even the full Board of Governors must know, it's just too dangerous."

"You have my word, I'll talk to the Chair myself, we'll find an alternative to put before the full Board. Only 2 or 3 people ever need to be informed."

"Thank you."

"So, you say I've met this brave and foolhardy woman? I must confess I'm keen to discover her identity, is she here?"

"She's waiting outside." As Albus slipped outside, the Headmaster schooled his expression. He had a suspicion about who was going to step through the door with Albus – but it was only that. If he was wrong, he didn't want anyone to realise he'd been speculating.

As it happened he wasn't wrong. Minerva McGonagall slipped into the office, blushing becomingly as Albus slipped his arm around her waist. "Armando – I believe I did say you'd met my wife?"

"My dear girl – have you taken leave of your senses?" But he was smiling as he kissed Minerva's cheek and offered his very sincere congratulations. "At least I was correct when I said anyone prepared to marry Albus was brave."

"You don't look surprised at the news," Minerva observed at last.

"I was surprised when Albus waltzed in here and told me he was married. But, once I'd recovered from my shock I have to confess you were the person who came to mind." He saw the worried look the newly weds exchanged, "I promise, you've never behaved with anything other than the impeccable discretion I'd expect. But we old men have a tendency to the romantic – and I suppose I was hoping that all the time you'd been spending together was filled with something more than discussions about transfiguration and games of chess."

They spent a little longer talking, he asked about the wedding and Minerva, rather dryly, explained that Albus had been responsible for organising the ceremony. "Once I was certain my fiancé was not leading me straight off a cliff, it was rather beautiful," she said dryly, shooting a look at the man standing beside her. "Clearly Albus has a flair for the dramatic."

"I am fairly sure you knew that already," her husband replied. For a moment they looked at each other and Armando was sure they had forgotten all about him. Then, the moment was over; Minerva excused herself and Albus started to follow her.

"Can I speak to you for a moment Albus?" Both men waited until the door was closed and then the Headmaster said softly, "she's good for you."

"Let's hope I'm equally good for her."

"I know how much you must want to protect her – but she isn't weak or helpless, she isn't anything like Penelope."

"You're right," Albus agreed, "she really isn't anything like Penelope." For a moment his mind flicked to another woman, another lifetime – but then resolutely he pushed the thoughts away. Armando clearly hadn't the slightest doubt that their marriage was genuine, which was what they'd wanted. Albus wasn't taking his claim that he'd suspected something between them too seriously. They had always spent a lot of time together and sometimes people speculated, reading too much into friendships; although, in this case that speculation had worked in their favour.

"Were you worried about the age difference?" Armando asked, "is that why you were reluctant to tell me you were involved with her when we first discussed the Governors' request?"

"About the age difference, the secrecy, about almost everything," he confessed, repeating the lines they had agreed upon. "We'd discussed marriage and decided it was impossible - but Minerva is, strong-willed. And when I told her about the Governors…"

Armando sighed, almost wistfully, "you're a very lucky man, my friend. I'm sure you'll be very happy – with such an intelligent, beautiful and young wife."

The innuendo was plain but Albus didn't hear it; he was dazed, suddenly seeing Minerva through another man's eyes. Was she beautiful? Armando clearly thought so. But for so long he'd viewed her as his friend, a familiar intelligence with an inherent grasp of logic that he respected. He believed he was privileged to see a side of her she concealed from others and he knew that beneath her rather frosty exterior there was warmth and compassion as well as the bravery of the staunchest Gryffindor. But, for how long had he viewed her as his friend, only his friend and not as a woman? He was married to her for Merlin's sake, someone else had just told him she was beautiful, implied that she was desirable – and he was surprised? What was wrong with him?

The greatest wizard of the age, he scoffed; clearly he had spent far too long with his head in books.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

A/N - thanks for the reviews.

Part 5

The start of term was almost upon them and for several days now Minerva had been far too busy to dwell upon the ramifications of her marriage. Actually she had scarcely seen her 'husband' for the last 48 hours; he had disappeared, as he was wont to do. The owl he'd sent had said simply, 'gone fishing,' and that he would try to be back before the term started. She thought she knew him well enough to assume that he hadn't literally gone fishing – but it was hard to be certain of anything when it came to Albus.

At last she had a few hours to herself and now that it was cooler, her plan was for a quick run around the lake in her other form. But when an apologetic looking phoenix appeared in the middle of her rooms with a distinctly half-hearted flourish she knew Albus was back from his travels and that the few hours to herself were going to have to wait. She touched the phoenix's head and said quietly, "tell him I'm on my way."

They'd agreed to use Fawkes as a signal for those rare occasions when Albus needed her to appear in his rooms and that, on such occasions, she would bring with her a few possessions; enough to make it look as though she spent a significant amount of her time in the Deputy Headmaster's private rooms. Since only Armando knew they were married, she assumed that he was planning to pay them a visit.

As Fawkes disappeared she collected a carefully packed bag from behind her sofa, shrank it to fit into the pocket of her robes and once outside in the corridor transformed into a tabby cat.

Her progress across the castle was rapid, she transformed back, enlarged her bag and tapped lightly on the door as she spoke the password that would allow her access to Albus' rooms. It still felt odd to be able to freely enter his private domain; this was very different from being able to gain entrance to his office. But he had deemed it necessary and she had reciprocated – giving him the password to her own rooms, knowing that she could trust his circumspection in using it.

She'd always thought that the rooms occupied by the Head of Gryffindor were very lovely, even given the current occupant's rather eccentric taste in décor. The bright, almost clashing colours weren't exactly to her taste and if she really were all but living here she would have had to find a way to tone them down – or else risk a constant headache.

Albus emerged from what she assumed was the bedroom and smiled, "that was impressively fast my dear – which is just as well. Armando owled me to say he will be here in a few minutes - I thought it well to make it appear he had interrupted a quiet evening together."

"The Governors?" she asked briskly, determined to be business-like, even in these circumstances. His eyes twinkled in amusement at her tone but all he said was,

"I assume so." He waved his hand and the lights went out – to be replaced by the soft glow of candlelight. Two glasses of wine appeared beside the sofa and a low table slid forward with a partially played game of chess set out upon it. Now to be outdone Minerva opened her bag and with a few quick spells one of her spare outer robes joined one of Albus' on a hook, some books and one or two photographs took up residence the mantelpiece. The final items she hesitated over. She thought it unlikely that Armando would venture beyond the living room, but in case he did, she had brought with her some things to give the impression she spent her nights here.

"Do you mind if I…?" she held out the bag so he could see what she had left to distribute.

"Be my guest," swiftly she passed into the other room, laying a robe on the bed beside the large, purple dressing gown. A hairbrush went onto the chest of drawers and a few toiletries into the bathroom. She had not intended to look around the bedroom – but never having been there before her curiosity got the better of her. The four poster was enormous, its hangings an elegant mixture of gold, red and burgundy. But what really drew her attention was the picture on the bedside table, where her own image smiled and waved back at her.

Feeling suddenly mischievous she waved her wand and the heavy coverings on the bed were pulled back, the pillows moved around, the robes slid to the floor and the sheets became rumpled.

When she emerged she found Albus leaning against the fireplace looking around the room one last time. "I see I have you in check," she observed, nodding to the chess game they had apparently been in the middle of.

"Well, it seemed best not to make Armando suspicious." She was prevented from replying by a knock at the door. As Albus went to answer it she curled herself into the corner of the sofa, he paused at the door and looked back at her; she saw his lips move and then felt her hair slip around her shoulders. She glared at him as she realised he had vanished her hairpins, but he was already opening the door to let the Headmaster in.

"It's good to see you back Albus," Armando said as he stepped into the room, "I trust your fishing expedition was productive?" At the question Albus glanced towards Minerva who was doing an excellent impression of someone who knew what they were talking about. In fact, Albus was certain she was dying to ask him what he had been up to – but was far too discrete and careful to come out and ask him directly.

"Actually the fish were frustratingly elusive," he replied before dismissing the subject and offering the other man a seat, "will you join us in a glass of wine?"

"That would be most pleasant," another glass was summoned and the wine poured, Armando settled himself into a chair while Albus joined Minerva on the sofa. "I hope I haven't interrupted your evening?"

"Not at all," Minerva replied, glancing down at the chessboard she added, "although the break may give Albus a chance to re-group."

"She's going to beat you again, isn't she?" Armando chuckled. Albus sighed, heavily,

"I haven't conceded defeat yet. Now, what can we do for you Armando?"

"I wanted to tell you both about the discussions I've been having with the Chair of the Governors. As you know he is due to step down shortly and he asked me to also talk to his designated successor. They both agree news of your marriage will not be something any of the other Governors will be informed of. Their suggestion is that the full Board is told that you have agreed to a morals clause being included in your contract. In effect you will be agreeing that should your personal life bring the school into disrepute you could be sacked."

"I imagine being secretly married to a fellow teacher could fall into that category," Minerva said, "I can think of circumstances when, if people found out, our marriage could be viewed as quite scandalous."

"Especially when the teacher in question is also one of my former students," Albus added.

"I thought of that as well," Armando produced 2 scrolls of parchment and handed them over, "this is the morals clause and this is a letter, signed by me and by both Governors, which states that the clause is rendered null and void for issues relating to your marriage. If the secret is discovered, it may still cause a scandal but it won't cost either of you your jobs."

Minerva leant over his shoulder to read the documents – which was sufficient distraction to require Albus to marshal his concentration. One of the reasons he'd gone away was to try to come to terms with his new awareness of the woman beside him. The faint scent of her perfume and his consciousness of her body, so close to his, made him recognise that the attempt had not been entirely successful.

"It seems fine Armando," he said at last handing the scrolls back.

"I'm glad you think so. However, I did realise that this situation had given us another difficulty, one I'm surprised neither of you thought of, or perhaps your minds were on other things." They exchanged glances, with no idea what he was talking about. "Albus – when we first talked about your becoming Headmaster we also discussed who would succeed you, you do remember that?"

"Of course. I am still planning to appoint Professor Craddick as my Deputy – at least until her retirement and to offer Minerva the positions of Head of Gryffindor and transfiguration professor – oh," finally he realised what the problem was, "she's perfectly qualified for both positions Armando, it isn't nepotism."

"I'm aware of that Albus, but 2 of the Governors know you are married to Minerva. They might well question your decisions with regard to her – even if they won't be able to raise them with the full Board. However, I am not married to Minerva, so I can recommend her appointment with no questions asked. You just have to agree, I assume you do?"

"Of course."

"Perhaps they'd like to put a morals clause in my contract as well," Minerva said, her tone and expression making both men very aware of how angry she was. "Thank you for your efforts on my behalf Headmaster, but there are other wizarding schools I can teach at. Perhaps it would be best for all of us if I wasn't here." Albus' yelp of protest was drowned out by Armando's laughter.

"And have our new Headmaster pining away because his wife lives in a different country. I don't think that would be a good solution at all, my dear. Please don't worry, I'm sure it will all be agreed – in fact you may wish to have the current Head of Gryffindor spend some time helping you to prepare for next year. I suspect that won't be too much of a chore."

Albus could tell that Minerva was controlling her temper. One day, he thought, he would find out why she found generosity so difficult to accept; he was sure it was allied to the reason she struggled to accept compliments. Someone, somewhere had caused her great pain – but now was not the moment to explore old wounds. In fact, if the frown that had suddenly shadowed Armando's face was anything to go by, there was one more thing he had to tell them.

"What is it Armando?"

"You see too much my friend," the Headmaster commented ruefully. "The Governors' I confided in are prepared to vow never to reveal the secret of your marriage – but they have both asked to share the news with their wives."

"It's too many people," Albus responded at once, "the greater the number who know, the greater the risk of exposure."

"And how could I have stopped them? What could I have said? Would your wife be happy to learn you keep secrets from her?" It was, under the circumstances, an unfortunate question. There was a long silence, Armando's eyes widened with the realisation that Albus hadn't responded, clearly implying that he did keep secrets from his wife.

It was Minerva who saved the moment – lying her hand on Albus' arm she said, "I don't imagine other men's secrets are of the same magnitude as yours, my dear." At her words he looked at her, startled by what she had said, how much she knew without him telling her, how much she seemed to understand. "But Armando is right – we can't sow marital discord amongst others in order to protect our own marriage."

"Fine. Just their wives though, no one else."

"Agreed, I'll see to it." Armando stood, "I'll bid you goodnight then," he took a step towards the door and then hesitated. "I am getting old," he said, almost under his breath and then, "Albus would you mind if…?"

"Be my guest." They were both too wary to say very much while Armando used the facilities – although Albus did wonder why when he returned from the bathroom he was bright red and bid them a rather hurried good night. Minerva looked distinctly amused, but he decided not to ask her about it. They waited for long enough to be sure the headmaster was safely back in his own rooms and then she collected the few items she had brought with her and slipped back out into the corridors.

Suddenly weary Albus decided upon an early night but, when he stepped into his bedroom, he realised what it was that had startled Armando – and what had amused Minerva so. The bed was very far from the pristine state he had left it in – in fact it was a riot of disorder, with pillows scattered, sheets tangled and two robes on the floor. It looked exactly as though two people had been enjoying themselves within it quite recently. He chucked out loud at the unexpected glimpse of Minerva's humour and at how embarrassed Armando must have been when he saw the bed and leapt to the inevitable conclusion.

He picked up his dressing gown and her robe, wondering if she realised that she had left some of her possessions behind. The material was soft and silky beneath his fingertips and for a moment his imagination supplied a picture of her clad in it. But then he blinked it away – annoyed with himself. Had he been celibate for so long that he was this easily affected by an unexpected burst of attraction – or was it something about her?

Whatever the answer it was an inconvenient, but not insurmountable problem.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

A/N - so, I decided it was time Minerva got a little nudge - so this chapter contains one. Also, I might be taking slight liberties with Albus' backstory. Or not.

Part 6

Albus set aside the last of his marking just as the early autumn sun was setting. As he stretched and looked across his office the school grounds were bathed in glorious golds and peaches. He was tempted by the prospect by a walk – perhaps around the lake to take full advantage of the splendid evening – but he knew it wasn't going to be possible.

He was, somewhat reluctantly, dressed in a very fine set of robes. Even though the first week of term was barely over, Armando had insisted that this evening there would be a small celebratory party – to celebrate the Governor's confirmation that Albus would take over as Headmaster next June.

The formal announcement was some weeks off and he was glad of that. He was glad as well that this was an informal gathering – because it would also be the first time that either he or Minerva would be in the same place as those Governors who knew of their marriage. He'd been at the Governors' meeting of course, though not while they discussed his appointment. But the meeting itself had prevented the Governors who knew the truth from approaching him. He wasn't sure they would be so restrained tonight, although he could always hope.

There were other, more pressing matters on his mind. He had spent years carefully keeping track of those he viewed as potential threats to the hard won peace their world enjoyed. All the evidence he had so carefully gathered told him that something was stirring in the darkness – and he was worried about where that would lead. They had grown lazy and complacent – taking peace for granted in a way he had never thought possible in the years after the ravages of the last war.

"You look as though you are contemplating something particularly unpleasant," a soft voice said from just beside him; Minerva had demonstrated her skill in sneaking up on people once more – he was sure her pupils found it a lot more annoying than he did. "It couldn't be the prospect of this evening's gathering – could it?"

"Actually I was thinking about a gathering darkness – and the threat to our peace and stability." Minerva looked startled and then worried by his words. His immediate impulse was to be sorry that he had told her – but then, before he could leap into down playing his remark he recognised that while he didn't want to burden her, he did want to share this with her. He wanted to know what her reaction was, what she thought.

"Is this at all linked to your fishing expedition?" she asked, her eyes narrowed in concern.

"When I go fishing it generally means I am looking for dark wizards, although I confess sometimes I genuinely do go fishing."

"I don't find that at all surprising." She looked over at him, "you think something is happening, that someone is out there, like Grindelwald?"

"Perhaps not exactly like him – but yes, I think someone, or even several someone's are out there and I think they would seek to impose their will on our world – and remove those who would stand in their way."

"And I imagine that you would be one of the major obstacles?"

"I would certainly stand against them – I can only hope that I wouldn't be alone in doing so."

"I think you know that you wouldn't be, or you ought to know." The declaration of faith, however oblique was reassuring. "You don't have to, you must not, do this on your own Albus. By all means chose carefully who you trust – but, you need help to gather evidence – to make sure our world heeds the warning. Don't let's make the same mistake as last time and leave it until it's too late."

"And if there is no real evidence – just the suspicions of an eccentric old man?"

"You're not old!" She pointed out bluntly – forcing him to smile at the way she had completely failed to dispute his eccentricity. "If there is no evidence then I suppose we must watch and wait, which is what you're doing anyway?"

"I always watch – and I'm grateful for your support. Although if my own wife won't defend me from accusations of eccentricity then I don't know what will become of me."

"I suspect you'll survive." She frowned, "are you setting tests for me Albus Dumbledore? Trying to find out if you have my loyalty? If I can be trusted?" Her tone cut him and for the first time it occurred to him that in a way that was exactly what he had been doing. Not that he was going to admit it.

"I don't need to set tests for you Minerva – you caught me in a weak moment, I obviously needed to share my troubles with someone. I think I chose my confident wisely, since once again you've exercised your devastating talent for cutting straight to the heart of the issue – and for reminding me that I'm not omnipotent. I suspect that was what I needed."

"I didn't mean to be suspicious."

"Given what we have been talking about I don't think you should be sorry for being suspicious." He managed a small smile – but there was no disguising that he felt as though a great deal had happened between them in a very short time. Minerva's expression was equally troubled and he was sure that had only been partially caused by his revelations.

"It matters that you felt able to share this with me Albus." He nodded, wondering if she was going to say something else, but she let the moment pass. "Shouldn't we be going? I don't think it's the done thing for the guest of honour to be late for his own party."

"You're right, as usual." For the first time he looked at what she was wearing and his smile broadened. "Although I see you don't feel the occasion merited a change of clothes?" Her expression became mutinous and her tone was very clipped when she replied.

"These robes are good enough to teach in, I'm sure they are acceptable for an evening with my fellow teachers and the Governors."

"But it's a special occasion, an evening in my honour." He didn't really care what she wore, but teasing her was by far the best part of his day so far. Signing she conceded the point.

"Fine, give me ten minutes, I'll change…"

"That is one option, however if you were, for example, a Professor of Transfiguration you could just…" he waved his hand vaguely at her, not sure if he was risking her wrath as her practical teaching robes slid into something slightly less practical, in a far lighter shade of green.

"I could have done that myself," she hissed.

"I don't doubt it. Shall you change your hair, or will I?" The glare directed in his direction would have felled a lesser man but he simply smiled at her and watched over the top of his spectacles as she flicked her wand, changing her hairstyle from the normal severe bun into a far looser twist.

"I don't understand your fascination with changing my hair style."

"Don't you my dear?" He took her arm in his and steered her out of the study, "it's really very simple – your hair is quite beautiful and, although your everyday hairstyle is practical, when you're not teaching I like to see you wear it differently."

It wasn't very often Minerva was at a loss for words – but this was clearly one of those occasions. She blushed, looked away from him and seemed quite unable to form a coherent sentence. Secretly he was rather pleased that this was her response to compliments, it made him think he might like to compliment her more regularly.

She was starting to realise what the muggle poet Dante had been writing about when he described circles of hell. Minerva hadn't quite decided which particular circle she was in – nor for what crime she was being punished, but there was little doubt about her current location.

Albus was being no help at all. They had been separated as soon as they arrived at the party, she had been carried off to a quiet corner and was now being thoroughly cross-examined about her relationship with the Deputy Headmaster – by two of the few people who knew that she was his wife. For this she had no one to blame but herself, since she had been the one who had said it would be wrong to prevent the Governors in question from sharing the secret with their wives. Not that regretting the past was going to help her much now.

They made an incongruous couple of interrogators – the young, vapid Madam Vasavor, dressed in the latest fashion to a quite ridiculous degree and somehow still looking breath-taking and the older, elegant Madam Claybridge – whose sharp-eyed gaze seemed to miss very little. Between them Minerva was being thoroughly grilled. At least now she understood why Albus had insisted on such careful preparation. She looked across the room, trying to catch his eye – hoping desperately for rescue, but he was deep in conversation with Armando and Frederic Vasavor.

They had stopped asking her questions about the wedding, unfortunately instead they were now going through the history of her husband's past romantic liaisons – which was information she definitely didn't need to be privy too. She hadn't realised that Albus' life had been so public, so speculated upon. No wonder he had retreated to Hogwarts.

She knew about his marriage of course, although throughout their years of friendship he had seldom, if ever, referred to it. He'd been a widower for a long time but she'd always assumed he'd had relationships in the intervening period, even though she was relatively certain there had been no one in recent years. But, there was no need for her to hear the details about his past – or even worse to hear speculation about what the details might be.

"And your point is…?" She said sharply, interrupting Madam Claybridge as she explained that no one really knew what had gone on between the hero who had defeated Grindelwald and the beautiful widow of the French resistance leader – but everyone had agreed they had been very close.

"That you aren't anything like any of the others." Well, she'd asked for that. She looked across the room again, this time finding that Albus was watching her, his eyes filled with concern.

"In what way?"

"Well, his other women," Minerva frowned and didn't let her finish.

"I'm sorry, I may not have been completely paying attention, but from what you've just been saying I gathered that between his wife's death and now Albus has been involved with four, possibly five women. You don't have to make it sound as though it's a harem." Madam Claybridge didn't look remotely bothered by her interruption – in fact if anything her smile became somewhat smug, as though Minerva leaping to defend her husband was exactly what she had been hoping for.

"Well, no matter the exact number, you are more than capable of looking after yourself, as you have just so aptly proved. The other women were all somewhat fragile." For a moment Minerva had no response – but fortunately she didn't need to find one.

"But, I suppose she is young. At least in comparison to him." Madam Vasavor wasn't used to not being the centre of attention for this long. She wrinkled her beautiful nose delicately – as though regretting applying the term 'young' to anyone so much older than she was. "Men can be rather vain,"

"Yes, they can." Minerva made sure voice was a drawl of not so subtle innuendo and a beat after she had spoken flicked her gaze towards Frederic Vasavor, making it abundantly clear which of them she was implying was the trophy wife. The exit in response was a well-practised flounce, leaving Minerva feeling almost sorry for her husband. Almost. She glanced at her remaining companion – who was looking even more amused.

"You definitely aren't fragile." Madam Claybridge murmured, "that was so clear an insult even she understood." She looked over towards Albus, her expression softening, "I've known him for a long time, despite his vaunted intelligence he does have a tendency towards the chivalrous. He likes to rescue people – women especially. I'm amazed he's had the sense to marry someone like you, even under the current circumstances. He needs an equal – or, failing that, someone who doesn't need his protection. You'll do."

Before Minerva could respond she found herself on her own. She remained in her corner as conversation buzzed around her, occasional words or phrases leaping out more clearly. When she had first arrived at the party all she had wanted was some peace and quiet to think about what she had been told about a dark wizard on the rise, about Albus' role in discovering this.

Now that she had a few moments to herself all she could think about was Madam Claybridge's parting comment. She had no idea if any of it had been true. And, in an odd sort way it had been a compliment, she knew she could look after herself, she'd been doing so for a very long time.

But, the knowledge that she wasn't the sort of woman Albus traditionally became involved with had affected her in an entirely unexpected way. She wasn't jealous exactly, but she was unsettled. It shouldn't matter to her in the slightest, she shouldn't care. But she did.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

A/N - you know, I am not entirely sure this was the chapter I intended to write. Still, whatever works right? Thanks for the reviews and continued interest in the story.

Part 7

Minerva stretched as she pushed the book she had been reading aside. As she looked around her she was dismayed to learn it had grown dark outside, leading her to the conclusion that she had spent the whole of the afternoon in the library. It was a cold and wet Sunday, just a few weeks before Christmas – so her inclination to venture outdoors had not been very great. Still, she hadn't intended to spend the remainder of her weekend poring over old and increasingly esoteric texts.

Perhaps she should have expected her research to come to naught; perhaps there simply were no answers to her questions. But as the weeks passed, at odd moments when her mind was not occupied by other things, she had found herself dwelling on the powerful flash of light at her wedding ceremony. People might find it odd that she was researching her own wedding ceremony – especially after it had already taken place - but her curiosity had got the better of her.

This was the first opportunity she'd had to devote any real time to the subject and everything she had come up with so far was frustratingly vague. As far as she could tell the flash of light did portend something – and whatever the something was, it had power, but that was it. Not the best use of her afternoon. She'd never enjoyed divination; she preferred logic, systems and patterns to portents and omens. She was prepared to concede that there were such things as genuine seers, but she was equally clear that she hadn't met many of them.

She rolled her shoulders – wincing as she felt the stiffness in them. Packing away her books it occurred to her that the greatest wizard of his generation, possessor of mysterious powers, defeater of the dark wizard Grindelwald and, incidentally, her husband might be able to help. Her attempts to get him to discuss the subject had been fruitless so far; he was being vague and mysterious. But then Albus was frequently vague and mysterious – he was a man who could make a puzzle out of the simplest things.

She was sure she could ask, but shewasn't convincedthat if she did she would get any sort of answer out of him. Experience had taught her that he was more likely to give information when you already had most, if not all, of the pertinent facts at your disposal. Besides, there were other questions on her mind that only he could provide the answer to – the ceremony would wait a little longer.

Several hours later, with a late supper inside her, a glass of wine at her elbow and the prospect of another chess victory before her - she eyed the subject of her speculations warily. Albus, she had learnt, was very much like a game of chess, one needed to find the right strategy and even then the outcome was unpredictable.

"Checkmate," she said making her final move and seeing the flicker of amusement in his eyes as he realised the trap she had so carefully lured him into.

"Your strategising would make a Slytherin blush," she decided that was probably a compliment.

"I'm fairly sure that snakes don't blush."

"Very true my dear, have we time for another game? I'd like to try to salvage some of my dignity."

"Actually I thought we could talk for a little." Their eyes met and she made herself look steadily back at him until he asked,

"Is something wrong?"

"No." She curled herself into the chair she most often occupied in his study. The room was silent save for the crackling of the fire - Albus was very good at using silence, but this was a subject she had been wondering about since the conversation she'd had with the Governors' wives. "I just wondered, I mean it's not something you talk about, I know it's not any of my business but…" she stopped, annoyed at herself for stuttering.

"Under the circumstances I'd say it was very much your business." She knew he hadn't read her mind, she trusted him to respect her privacy. But, sometimes Albus knew things without needing to be told and this was clearly one such occasion. "You want to know about my marriage, my first marriage?"

"I suppose I do. You don't have to tell me though."

"I know I don't have to – however, I can choose to tell you." He was silent briefly; fingers pressed together, eyes far away. "I'm sure you've heard the essentials of the tale. When people write about me they generally mention that I was married to a muggle. Well, I met Penelope when I was very young, when we were both very young, I was 25 – she was barely 20. Her father had died two or three years earlier, leaving Penelope and her mother with very little money. When I first met her she was living with the family of one of her father's friends, they were rather wealthy and Penelope was a companion to their daughter. I was in Oxford to further my studies in alchemy and, somehow I was invited to a party she attended. I fell in love with her almost at once – she was very beautiful – like a Princess, but she was also quiet and shy. We were married a few months after that first meeting and were together until her death 25 years later."

"She didn't know anything about magic and our world when you first met her?"

"No. To be honest she was never entirely comfortable with wizards and witches and she preferred the muggle way of doing things. She remained very much a woman of her time and up-bringing. We were happy despite that, or perhaps because of it."

"Is that why you never re-married?" She could hardly believe that she had asked the question and somehow it was important that she had not added "until now." Hearing him talk about his marriage had made her realise just how different their current circumstances were.

"Not exactly. It isn't loyalty to her memory that kept me from remarrying, until now, but rather the insight our time together gave me. I'm not the young wizard who rescued the princess from a life of drudgery and poverty anymore. I don't want the same things I wanted in my youth and, even if sometimes I want them, I know enough to realise they aren't good for me." Minerva was reminded of the conversation she'd had with Madame Claybridge and she wondered how much he knew about his reputation.

"I've always assumed your life was the epitome of balance," she said with a lightness she didn't feel, "and now here you are, apparently dispelling all of those myths."

"I suspect you've never believed me that perfect Minerva, after all you've seen my filing system."

"Albus, you know very well that the way you store documents is hardly worthy of the term system."

The banter was familiar, safe – but still the moment was edged with danger. How did she keep finding herself in these situations with him? For years their friendship had been comfortable and now, suddenly, in a matter of months it had grown in depth and intimacy – but also in complexity. It had been years since she had felt this close to anyone and while she treasured this new aspect of the friendship, she knew that she would only need to recall this conversation to remind herself that a friendship was all it could ever be.

The more she understood him, the more enigmatic he became and yet within the mystery there were tantalising glimpses of what it might be like to be wanted by him. She thought a relationship such as the one he would demand was beyond her now, she didn't have the trust or the heart for it, for the fight it could so easily become. But, the complexities, the honesty, the moments when you were at the centre of his attention could make the struggle worthwhile. Knowing yourself beloved by him might just be enough comfort for all of the times when the rest of the world demanded his time.

"Thank you for telling me," she said quietly, after all she had been given the information she had sought – it wasn't his fault that it had made her a little melancholy.

"Will you return the confidence and answer a question of mine now?"

"What is the question?" she responded – careful, always careful.

"I was wondering if you would tell me about the man who broke your heart."

He saw her flinch at his question and had to make his gaze remain calm – the question had been plaguing him of late, but he wasn't sure what he would do if she told him that someone had hurt her.

Her sadness had always fascinated him. It was a part of her and yet, it never came even close to defining her. It lingered at the edges of her personality – like a ghost too stubborn to move on. He wondered if she even realised how little effect it had on her now, how peripheral it had become. He suspected she held onto it because it was familiar, not because it mattered.

"Why do you assume that's what happened?" She wouldn't meet his eyes and her fingers plucked at a loose thread on her robes. As he pondered how to answer that she almost smiled, "I suppose that's a somewhat foolish question to ask you."

"You don't have to tell me," he said, echoing her earlier remark, yet even as he spoke he knew that she wouldn't let herself back away from this now that he had asked.

"It's not a secret Albus, it's just not something I enjoy discussing." A flicker of strong emotion passed through him and apparently this time he did a bad job of concealing it because Minerva reached out to touch his hand. "Not because of something terrible, I promise it's not that. I just don't like to be reminded of failures." She took a breath and moved her hand away, making him miss the warmth.

"It's not a very unusual story; while I was involved in my post-doctoral research I became involved with a man, I loved him, he said he loved me. But, either he didn't, or after some time had passed he fell out of love with me. As you can imagine neither of those are very comfortable options for me to contemplate. It's easier for me to remember that neither of us was very happy with where our lives were – I was tired of research and he felt that he had made the wrong choices in his career. Neither of us was much help to the other – we seemed to be unable to talk about what really mattered. When his feelings changed he should have ended things between us, but he lacked the courage. Instead he pushed me away, I think he had some idea of killing my love for him – but actually it just made me more desperate to reach him. But, in the process it damaged how I feel about myself and it made me feel rejected. Eventually I realised that I would never change how he felt – so I ended things. Very shortly afterwards he met someone else – they're still together as far as I know."

This was a case when the delivery was as important as the content. Minerva spoke with the same dry precision she used while teaching, but Albus could tell that it cost her to sound so dispassionate. "I'm sorry," he offered and she inclined her head in acknowledgement.

"It was a long time ago – it feels almost like a different lifetime."

"But you haven't forgotten it." He deliberately didn't make it a question.

"No. I didn't like how vulnerable and desperate I became – I know that to love requires vulnerability – but I don't think that love should require you to debase yourself."

"I don't believe it does, if it really is love. There should be vulnerability there, but strength as well."

"I'll defer to your greater knowledge on the subject," she said dryly and then she added, "I decided that I couldn't go through such pain again, it's fortunate that I've never been someone who needed a relationship to make me feel complete."

There was a warning there and Albus knew that if she thought for a single moment that he felt sorry for her she would run away and likely never return. But, he didn't feel sorry for her. He was angry with the man who had done this to her, angry enough to make it a good thing that he had no idea of his identity.Yet there was a strange sort of gratitude as well, since he knew that if the relationship had not ended or if she had met someone else, their friendship would never have become so close.

He agreed with her description of herself as someone who didn't need another to make her complete. Minerva was one of the most self-reliant people he knew, far more so that he. Rather like her animagus form, she chose carefully who she gave her loyalty and friendship to; which made both a prize of great value.

She didn't need him. She had told him about what happened to her and had asked nothing of him. There were no tears, little bitterness – he had absolutely no impulse to rescue her, to save her from her self-imposed isolation, the very idea seemed absurd.

Which made it all the more complicated that it was suddenly entirely clear to him that he was in love with her. He was in love, with his own wife, and he had absolutely no idea what to do about it.

The feeling had crept up on him, taking him completely by surprise. His first marriage had determined the pattern of his subsequent relationships for so many years, until he had wearied of being needed, of being the rescuer, the strong one. He didn't want a princess who he had freed from a tower, he wanted a lover who could be his equal; he wanted intelligence, fierce independence and the kind of passion that only grew from someone who loved with both her head and her heart. In short he wanted the woman sitting before him.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

A/N - so, this is Part 8, I have to confess it's longer than I had intended it to be.

Part 8

"This is not a good idea," Minerva hissed as she stood in the doorway of the ballroom. She looked almost exactly like a cat – disdainful and petulant and it was all Albus could do not to chuckle at her resemblance to her animagus form. However, he knew her well enough to realise that his amusement at her expense would not be well received.

He understood and to some extent shared her dismay. He would have preferred it if the Minister of Magic had decided to celebrate his appointment as Headmaster of Hogwarts with a smaller, quieter reception – but he did understand why instead the wizarding authorities had felt the need to hold a large, lavish ball. Minerva on the other hand had been reluctant to concede the necessity of such a public event.

She flicked back an unruly wave of hair – again reminding him of an irritated cat. "It's all right Albus, I have no intention of causing a scene."

"It never crossed my mind that you would, I was merely wondering what it is about the ball that is making you so, testy?"

"You mean apart from the half a dozen people in there who know we're married and are no doubt expecting some indication of intimacy from us? Which we'll only have to find a way to get past the other several hundred guests who have no idea, but who won't hesitate to gossip or spread rumours about us given the slightest opportunity?"

"Yes, apart from that." Her sigh was decidedly irritated.

"Why must there be something else?"

"Because I know you – and I know that it takes more to unsettle you."

"Well, you're wrong." He wanted to tell her that he knew he wasn't – he wanted to tell her that whatever it was it wouldn't be so awful if they faced it together.

Alternatively, he was quite keen on the idea of giving into the temptation that had been plaguing him ever since laying eyes on her in dress robes – and apparating them both far away from here to a place a lot quieter, with a roaring fire – and possibly a large bed.

Reluctantly he reined in his fantasies, reminding himself that as far as he knew his feelings were one-sided. Which wasn't to say he was planning to let the moment pass.

"Very well, I won't interfere, I will only tell you that the somewhat complicated situation you describe is one that I am sure you will handle with consummate skill."

"Thank you," the hint of colour on her cheeks was very becoming.

"You look lovely Minerva," to his delight the blush deepened, and this time he didn't resist the temptation to brush away an errant strand of hair from her cheek, his touch lingering, before trailing down her neck, over her shoulder and travelling down her arm.

"Albus!" Her exclamation was startled, but there was a flare of heat in her eyes that gave him the courage to continue.

"I'm jealous," he said quietly, "of whatever it is that's bothering you, I wanted to be the one thing on your mind tonight."

"Well, if it helps, you certainly have the capacity to confuse and confound me," she rallied superbly, her dry comeback an example of her refusal to allow him the upper hand, one of the things he admired most about her.

"I suppose that's a start, although I'd prefer it if you said your dreams were filled with me, your waking hours…"

"What are you doing?" He didn't really think he needed to answer that, it was all too clearly a case of actions speaking louder than words. He'd guided her into a dark corner of the anteroom, where the guests who'd already arrived couldn't see them. His gaze drifted to her lips and reflexively she moistened them in response. It was perfectly clear that at some level, they both knew he was going to kiss her.

"This is not a good idea," she said for the second time but this time in a voice that was little more that a whisper,her positionsomewhat undermined by the hand she was already tangling in his hair.

He lowered his lips towards hers, wanting to draw the moment out, not completely certain that she was going to allow this – but she showed no sign of pulling away and just as they were about to touch…

"There you both are!" Armando grinned broadly at the realisation that he had obviously interrupted an intimate moment. "Do I have to remind you both how, difficult the situation would have been if anyone else had interrupted you?"

"No, you don't" Albus knew his voice was stiff with anger – but for once he didn't care. Minerva was already moving away from them, her lips set in a thin line of displeasure.

"You have my apologies Headmaster," she said, "I can assure you it won't happen again," and then she stepped into the ballroom and was lost in the throng of people.

To say Minerva was confused would be an understatement. At least, in the crowded ballroom there was an opportunity to get lost – although there was something ironic about seeking refuge in the one place she had been dreading going to. But, she had been somewhat out of optionsand given the choice between the ballroom and remaining to face Albus, her current location had won by an unexpectedly significant margin.

Albus' behaviour lay at the heart of her current confusion – he'd been extremely attentive recently, more so than ever before. Just days ago on Christmas morning he had showered her with countless small, thoughtful gifts; a book she'd mentioned wanting to read, a pair of gloves that matched her robes, her favourite biscuits, a blend of tea she enjoyed. All evidence that he knew her very well and was prepared to go to a great deal of trouble on her behalf.

Christmas day itself had been special – they'd exchanged gifts early in the morning and then spent the day supervising the students who'd remained at school for the holiday. But, with perhaps a little prompting from his Deputy, the Headmaster had arranged the day to leave their evening free. So, they'd had a quiet supper in front of the fire in her rooms. They'd played chess, with Albus accepting his defeat with good grace and then they'd sat and talked for hours. Their conversation had drifted, she'd asked him to tell her stories and he had obliged, recounting wondrous tales of adventures in far away places – some of which she had actually believed. And she had been lulled almost to sleep with the peace and warmth of his presence – so much so that when he'd stood to leave she had wanted to ask him to stay.

Perhaps then she should have realised that they had become too close. But, it had been so long since anyone had lavished such thought and attention on her – and she had enjoyed it. The problem was she was still enjoying it; she just wasn't sure what any of it meant. Until just a few moments ago he had been infuriatingly vague about his intentions – and she hadn't pushed him. But then he had almost kissed her, she'd almost kissed him; he'd been so, compelling and she'd let the moment wrap her up, let the slow sweep of his fingertips across her body cast a spell over her.

But as wonderful as it felt to be the subject of his interest, his pursuit even – she knew she had to put a stop to it. She collected a glass from a passing waiter, and took a meditative sip as she wondered just why she was so sure it was a terrible idea. Would it be so frightful to let her heart rule her head – and find out what she felt for the man who'd been her closest friend for a number of years?

Still arguing the pros and cons with herself she turned and came face to face with the reason she had been so reluctant to attend this event in the first place and the most convincing argument possible for why a relationship with anyone would be a terrible idea.

"Minerva – I was wondering if I would see you tonight."

Albus had been looking for her ever since her abrupt departure from the anteroom – but it was surprisingly difficult to search for one person at a ball where you are the guest of honour. With every step he took there was someone he didn't know, desperate to tell him how delighted they were at his appointment – when all he wanted to do was talk to Minerva and tell her, well, tell her what he should have told her weeks before.

But she was elusive, or else the ballroom was crowded and his well wishers tenacious – either way, whenever he thought he had caught a glimpse of her she disappeared just as quickly.

He turned his head and scanned the ballroom, sighing with relief when all the way across the room he recognised a gown and a cascade of long, dark hair. He eased his way through the crowd – praying that she wouldn't disappear before he reached her side. Every time someone stopped him he had to grit his teeth and summon a degree of patience he didn't quite know he possessed.

But, the closer he got, the more he felt that something was wrong – tension was radiating off her in waves and the last part of the distance between them was covered with scant attention to those who were in his way. He paused, just before he reached her to observe the scene. Her fingers were gripping the glass she held, so tightly that he was concerned that she might break it. She looked pale and far more fragile than he'd ever seen her – what on earth could have discomposed her to such an extent?

He recognised her companion as a senior figure in the Department of International Magical Co-operation, but he had never heard Minerva mention an acquaintance with him, yet alone one that was liable to cause her such distress.

"Professor Dumbledore," Porus Quintillus saw him first, but Minerva's eyes widened in shock as he reached her side.

"Porus," the two wizards shook hands – only marginally sizing each other up.

"Congratulations on your appointment, I was just telling Minerva that she must stand a very good chance of being appointed Transfiguration Professor in your place."

"I didn't realise the two of you knew each other." The comment was addressed at the woman beside him, who was uncharacteristically silent. But it was Porus who answered,

"Minerva and I have known each other for years – although I must admit we haven't met for some time, I've been overseas a great deal and she has been tucked away at Hogwarts. We were very close for a while, before I met my wife of course." Albus didn't need the look Minerva shot him to confirm his suspicion that this was the man who had done such damage. And now he understood why she had been so reluctant to attend an event that she must have known was likely to bring her face to face with her former lover.

He wished he could say that Porus was a deeply unpleasant individual – but it wasn't true. He was intelligent, well-respected, perhaps a little boring; in essence he was a typical Ravenclaw, with the entirely typical Ravenclaw flaw of finding it difficult to deal with emotions. It just so happened that his difficulty had caused pain and distress to the woman Albus cared about.

"If you'll both excuse me," he supposed he couldn't blame Minerva for trying to slip away, but Porus wasn't going to allow that.

"Minerva – you have to wait to see Cassiopeia, she'd never forgive me if she didn't have the chance to say hello." The look on Minerva's face said that she would rather the ground opened and swallowed her whole, but she wasn't going to be that lucky. "Darling, over here!" The woman who glided over to meet them was glowing with pregnancy; an effect that was somewhat spoiled by the malicious glint in her eye as her gaze rested on Minerva.

"Gracious Minerva, it's been ages!"

"Cassiopeia," Minerva's voice was as brittle as spun glass and all four of them lapsed into an uneasy silence. It was Porus who finally filled the silence – introducing his wife to the guest of honour, Albus responded, desperate to find a way for both of them to get out of this situation. But, inevitably Minerva took matters into her own hands – just as Cassiopeia was relating some adventure of their first child she said, quite calmly, "excuse me, I believe Headmaster Dippet is looking for me," and strode off into the crowd in the general direction of Armando. Albus didn't know whether to be amused or affronted by the fact that she had abandoned him.

This time she wasn't difficult to find, the balcony was quiet and dark – exactly the place to go if you needed a few moments to retrieve your composure. Albus didn't speak at first, he took a moment to watch her, shoulders slumped, arms wrapped protectively around her stomach – she was a picture of misery and he wondered if it would be kinder to let her leave. "Don't just stand there, say something," she snapped at last.

"I was wondering if you wanted me to tell people you'd been taken ill, you could leave then and…"

"No," the word was distinct and certain. "I won't run away like a frightened child, I didn't want to see them, I knew I probably would – but now it's happened. And, to be honest, it wasn't as awful as I feared."

"You should have said something – if you'd told me who it was we could have found some way to avoid him, or made sure his invitation got lost."

"Which is exactly why I didn't tell you. It was a long time ago, but Porus and Cassiopeia are happily married, they were meant to be together – he and I obviously were not. You should go back to the party, everyone will be wondering where you are."

"When I'm sure you are all right." She smiled, still a little shaky, but there was more than a hint of her old self in the curve of her lips.

"Well, perhaps a few more moments out here won't hurt. Are you enjoying the party Professor Dumbledore?"

"Actually – not much. People keep congratulating me, it's very disconcerting – especially when all I want to do is ask a certain witch I know if she'd like to dance."

"Well, perhaps if you asked her, you'd find that she'd like to dance with you as well."

"You make it sound alarmingly simple, will you dance with me my dear?"

"I will." He took her hand in his and guided her back into the ballroom, determined not to let her out of his sight for the rest of the evening.

Luck, it seemed – was definitely not on his side tonight. After several dances Minerva had evaded him again – although perhaps it was for the best, since they had been starting to draw looks as they swirled around the dance floor together. The moment when he had come close to kissing her was tucked away for another time; now he was concerned about how she would react if she came into contact with Porus again. She'd said herself that the anticipation was far worse than the reality so, perhaps, it wouldn't be so bad, but still he was certain that it would be better if the meeting could be avoided.

His efforts to find Minerva were fruitless – however, his search did reveal Porus, sitting alone at a table – and Albus' curiosity got the better of him. "May I join you?" The other man gestured to a seat, and then surprised him by asking,

"Is Minerva all right?"

"I think so,"

"Once she'd got over the shock of seeing us you mean?" Albus wasn't quite sure how to reply to that, not that Porus seemed to need a response. "It was strange, seeing her again after so long. I'm not a terrible person Professor Dumbledore, I thought I loved her,"

"I don't think this is any of my business, I…"

"And you came and sat down beside me to discuss the finer points of international relations? She obviously told you about our relationship, about how it ended. I didn't mean to do such damage, I know I was a coward but I couldn't find the words to tell her; so in the end…"

"She found them for you?"

"Of course, and then Cassie came along and decided I was the one for her and she was right. I just wish Minerva hadn't been the one who introduced us." Albus winced and wished that Minerva hadn't left out that particular detail in her recounting of the tale. "Cassie was new, a little out of her depth and Minerva took her under her wing, looked after her. My wife is a wonderful woman Professor – but she was very clear in her pursuit of me, and I needed that. Everything I did to Minerva seemed to diminish her, I seemed to make her less sure of herself, less confident. I hoped that when our relationship ended she would be given back the confidence she lost – but she just left." He knew Porus wanted to hear that it hadn't been his fault, but it wasn't in Albus' power to grant him absolution. Whether it was deliberate or not, Minerva had felt his contempt for her – and that was what had done the damage.

"She doesn't trust anyone else with her heart – even now."

"I'm sorry for that – but you can't make someone love you. Minerva knows that better than anyone. The harder she tried to make me love her, the less I felt for her." He couldn't have known, couldn't have meant it deliberately, but the words hit Albus like blows. He'd been trying to make Minerva fall in love with him for weeks and now he realised that all he ran the risk of doing was destroying their friendship. He'd been behaving as though all he had to do was show her what the great Albus Dumbledore could give her, then snap his fingers and she would fall into his arms. Feeling slightly nauseous he pushed himself to his feet and muttered a few words to Porus. All he wanted to do now was get away – to straighten his thoughts out.

"Oh my!" Armando's exclamation made very little sense and certainly didn't seem to fit in with their conversation. Minerva followed the direction of his gaze and couldn't quite believe the sight of Albus, cutting a swathe through the guests, looking more shaken than she had ever seen him before.

"Headmaster, I…"

"Go, I'll make your excuses," he agreed without her even needing to finish, although following Albus turned out to be slightly difficult. The ballroom was still crowded and even though she pushed her way past the other guests with a cold ruthlessness, still she only reached the entrance in time to hear the pop of his apparition.

If he hadn't returned to Hogwarts she would have no way of finding him, but it seemed his most likely destination. All she could think about was the shattered look on his face as he walked out of the ball and what could possibly have affected him like that.

Apparating to the edge of the school grounds she was relieved to see him ahead of her, but he was moving rapidly, his long stride one she was certain she would never catch. She transformed swiftly and the small cat bounded after him, moving more quickly than Minerva ever could, closing the distance between them.

Still he reached the entrance before her and it was only by transforming back and calling out to him that she managed to attract his attention. He came to a halt just inside the entrance hall, looking as though even that was too much of an effort.

"What's wrong? She reached out to touch his arm, astonished when he flinched, "you stormed out of the ball, Armando and I were worried. Albus?" His face was a storm of rapidly changing emotions, she'd never seen him like this before – power crackled around him and for once she feared his ability to contain it. "For heavens sake – what happened?"

"Someone reminded me of something, something that in my arrogance I'd completely forgotten about."

"I don't understand."

"It doesn't matter,"

"Of course it matters, you're upset." Upset was, she thought somewhat of an understatement – but it would have to do. "Tell me, I want to help." His response was a harsh bark of what might just have been laughter.

"Well, I suppose if nothing else you understand how I feel – in a roundabout way." Now she was more confused than ever, taking a step closer to him, ignoring for now the sparks of magic crackling around him, she grasped his arm.

"Tell me!"

"I'll never make you love me, will I?" For a moment she reeled, shock rendering her speechless. "I've been trying so hard, these last weeks to make you see; to make you care for me. But love doesn't work that way – it has to be freely given." This was horrible, not the confrontation she had expected at all. Yet there was some relief in the knowledge that she was the one who had caused this, that what ailed him lay within her power to heal.

"And suppose it is freely given? What then?" His eyes widened for a moment, but he didn't respond with words. Instead strong arms clasped her to him and desperate, feverish lips sought hers. She held him as tight as she could, needing to soothe him with kisses, with caresses, using everything she felt for him to ease away the pain, even though she still didn't quite understand what had upset him.

Albus wasn't going to question what exactly had brought her into his arms, he wasn't going to worry about anything other than the look in her eyes when she had asked him about love freely given and the feel of her body against his. Dimly he knew that it probably was not a good idea to be sharing heated kisses in such a public location – but on the other hand, he needed this. He had been so sure that he was risking their friendship by pursuing her, so certain that he was going to have his heart broken by the knowledge that she wouldn't allow herself to return his feelings.

"What on earth!" The doors crashed open, bringing the desperate embrace to a sudden halt. He felt every muscle in Minerva's body stiffen and it was all he could do to hold her there. "Haven't we already had one conversation this evening about being discrete?" He could tell that Armando wasn't really annoyed, it was well after one am and the few students still in the school were safely tucked into bed.

"It was my fault," he told the Headmaster, "I reacted to something someone said to me at the ball, and decided to leave. Minerva came after me – and we couldn't help ourselves."

"I am not accustomed to falling over my staff behaving like our teenage students. You both have perfectly adequate rooms – please try to confine your, expressions of affection to them."

"We will," he looked down at the woman he was still holding, but her eyes were unreadable, a cold chill settled on him – she should be laughing, she should be…

Still mumbling to himself Armando turned on his heel and began to walk towards his study. As soon as the headmaster's back was turned, Albus felt the air change around him - the woman he was holding disappeared abruptly and a small tabby cat ran from him – as though pursued by the hounds of hell.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

A/N - I have to confess, I was more than a little tempted toconclude this story here. It fits (more or less) with cannon as far as we know it and would be a great set up for a long, deep friendship. But the romantic in me protested.

Part 9

It was almost dawn. The rain was falling heavily against the windows of the house, which was itself almost as dark and murky as the early Edinburgh morning.

In the study the embers of a fire flickered in the grate, casting shadows across the face of the woman curled into a high-backed chair. There was a tray of food close at hand, but the meal had scarcely been touched. In fact it was unclear if the women sitting gazing into the dying flames was even aware that it had been placed before her.

Minerva didn't know what she was doing here, she couldn't really explain the impulse that had carried her to this place when she had fled from Hogwarts. The old house in the heart of Scotland's capital had been her childhood home. But she never came here now, unless she had to – the empty, silent rooms held few happy memories for her.

She had been an only child, her parents had not exactly been in the first flush of youth when she was born – and she had never been entirely clear that her conception wasn't an accident. They had not been cruel; just too absorbed by their studies to make room for her in their lives. They had both been so serious, leaving little time for childishness, for silly, joyful games, for being young. Early on she had learnt that her best chance to gain the approval of her parents was by being studious and quiet – and so, throughout her childhood, she had been studious and quiet.

She'd had no friends of her own age until she went away to school – having lived exclusively with adults. In this house she had learnt the basics of transfiguration and of charms, not to mention more about potions than she ever wanted to know, but almost nothing about love and loving. Learning had been the religion here; it had been placed above love, above friendship, above caring. She could still remember the consternation that greeted the news that the daughter and granddaughter of noted Ravenclaws had been sorted into Gryffindor. Bravery and loyalty were, after all, emotions – they were things you felt, they couldn't be taught. It had made her a stranger in her own family – something that not even her academic brilliance had ever entirely dispelled.

So she'd come here, to this dark and gloomy house where she had spent a gloomy and neglected childhood. A place that matched her mood.

She was still wearing the dress robes she'd worn to the ball – in her headlong flight there had been no time for a change of clothes. A tartan blanket was draped around her shoulders – but she didn't really remember how it had got there. Perhaps one of the house elves? Her abrupt arrival had thrown them into a flurry of activity – no doubt they were cooking and cleaning in case she was staying for longer than a few hours. She hadn't told them that she had no idea what she was going to do, where she was going to go.

Albus loved her. It was incredibly difficult to get her mind to move beyond that amazing, dizzying revelation and she clutched it as a drowning man clutches at the hope of rescue.

She loved him back. It had been creeping up on her for weeks, perhaps even for years. The wonder was that it had taken her so long to see it. She thought back to the day she had offered to marry him, now she understood that it had been an offer made out of love.

But it was no good – nothing could come of it, there would be no relationship beyond friendship, no love affair. Loving him did not change the fact that she simply did not trust herself.

Unbidden her mind returned to those painful final months with Porus, when she had tried everything to make him remember that once he had said he loved her. How desperate she had been, how humiliated, how unhappy. She'd hated herself for needing him so much, for not being able to go a single day without speaking to him when he seemed to find even the most basic of conversations with her a chore. She had loathed the way she had clung to him as he had tried to pull away.

She had promised herself once it was finally over and done with, that she would never allow herself to lose her identity to that extent again. She would never betray herself, never again be so desperate for one persons love, that she would cease to think about who she was and what she needed. But she understood the weakness now, knew that she had it in her. The little girl who had grown up without her parents' unconditional love, had grown into a woman so desperate for love that when it came her way she would do almost anything to keep it.

She wouldn't allow herself to do that again, she wouldn't risk the descent into that madness – not even for Albus.

* * *

The Seer of Islay had awoken to a vision. He knew that Minerva McGonagall would come to him that day, that her arrival would bring distress. He had acted upon the knowledge – sending an owl to her husband immediately. However, he wished he had paid more attention to her demeanour in the vision, since he had clearly failed to notice just how terrifying she was when angry. Now, as they stood on the cliff top, her wand pointing at him, her arm completely steady as she repeated her demand, he was very aware of both her power and her steely determination. He had no doubt that she was capable of inflicting all the pain and discomfort that she threatened. Where was Dumbledore? 

The soft pop of an apparition answered his question and he opened his mouth to greet the new arrival, only to shut it abruptly without uttering a sound. It was abundantly clear that Albus Dumbledore wasn't even remotely interested in him – his gaze was fixed on the woman beside him as she demanded, once again, that the marriage bond be dissolved.

For the first time since Minerva had fled from him the evening before, Albus was able to breathe easily. She was here, before him – safe and sound; although her anger was palpable and he was very glad that he was not the subject of it. He had scarcely slept last night, waiting up to see if she would return. Only in the very early hours of the morning had he fallen asleep, determined that if she did not appear by lunch he would search for her.

The message from the Seer had made the search unnecessary, but there was still the matter of why she had run away from him in the first place. Now he knew he also had to deal with her desire to end the marriage. There was no doubt that if she insisted he would agree to the dissolution – he could do nothing else, the idea of forcing her to remain married to him was repulsive. If he had done something wrong he wanted the chance to redeem himself; but he wanted to understand first.

He breathed her name and although when she heard him her head snapped around, her arm and the wand she held did not waver. "If you want to end our marriage don't you think you should at least discuss it with me first?"

"How did you know I was here Albus?" He didn't have to answer that, her gaze returned to the Seer, "the genuine article," she commented dryly.

"Minerva," he drew her attention back to him, "tell me what's going on?"

"He refuses to dissolve our marriage,"

"He can't – without my agreement and I won't agree, until you explain."

"Don't you think it will be better, easier this way? We wouldn't have to tell anyone, the Governors and Armando could continue to think we are married," His heart sank, she sounded so determined, so reasonable; yet it was unlike her to act in haste and anger.

"What about our feelings?"

"Our feelings are irrelevant."

"I don't believe that, I don't think you believe it." He watched her, seeking understanding, concerned by her behaviour, but also worried about her. He had to get them both away from here, talk to her calmly and quietly – not like this. "Ask him about our wedding," he said, nodding towards the Seer. "Ask him about the light."

"Albus – you know we aren't supposed to explain," he had expected the Seer to be reluctant to share these most secret of details, especially with one as sceptical as Minerva. But, he could see that she was intrigued by what he had said, that she wanted to know. He hoped that desire was greater than her need to dissolve the marriage.

"Make an exception," his gaze burned into the Seer's, "tell her." With no further comment the Seer asked Minerva,

"What do you remember from the wedding?"

"The sea, the cliffs, the incantation, our wands touching and then the light."

"What did you see in the light?" Albus almost chuckled at her expression and he could see the Seer wince in fear. Minerva's wand was still pointing at him – perhaps this was not a good time to ask her stupid questions.

"Nothing – it was a blinding light."

"Are you sure?"

"Nothing – only Albus." She followed the looks the two men exchanged, "what? What is this about? What does the light mean?"

Albus knew she had been trying to find the answer to that question, he also knew the reason it had eluded her so far. She'd been seeking to answer the wrong question.

"The light is meaningless," the Seer said at last, with marked reluctance; "it's a mechanism, nothing more. Something that cuts away the interference and leaves only the truth, what really matters. In its wake you see what you need to. I saw your path; that one day you would both return here - although I didn't expect the return to be such a dramatic event. You saw your husband."

"And I saw you," Albus took a step towards Minerva, then another. His fingers clasped her arm – drawing the wand away from the Seer – for a moment it pointed at him but he was not afraid. He already knew that she could hurt him far more with words than with a curse. "Do you still want to end our marriage?"

"I don't know what I want."

She closed her eyes for a moment, weary and confused, her senses spinning from his proximity. When she opened them again they were alone – and the landscape had changed dramatically. The cliffs and the sea had gone, in their place were gently rolling hills and a dark forest, Albus had apparated them back to Hogwarts. She turned her head and looked at the castle, standing solidly before them, as though it had weathered storms, battles and everything in between. For all she knew it had done exactly that, would continue to stand long after they were both gone.

Albus watched her for a moment – the tiredness and strain evident on her face, he wanted to hold her, to carry her indoors, put her to bed and worry about everything else later. But he knew he could not.

"Will you explain to me what this is all about? I know that last night I may have, taken advantage of the moment – if I made you uncomfortable or…"

"You didn't. Did you mean it?"

"Of course," their eyes met and in the warmth of his gaze she could see everything he had not said. His feelings for her were tangible, a warm embrace that wrapped around her. It was unconscionable that she would hurt him – yet she had no choice.

"I was afraid of that. I can't love you back Albus, I thought if I dissolved our marriage I could run away from my feelings,"

"But it doesn't work that way. You do love me back Minerva – it isn't something you can have any control over. What you mean is, you can't allow yourself to act upon those feelings." She blinked back tears, with no intention of disputing his analysis of their situation.

"Do you always have to be so insightful, so intelligent?"

"The fact that I can diagnose the problem does not mean I have a solution to it. Will you explain it to me?"

"I'm afraid." Such simple words, such a complex set of emotions – he deserved a far better explanation. "I'm afraid that if I let myself love you, I'll lose myself, give myself away willingly. It's a weakness of mine, it's what I did with Porus, and I promised myself that I would never let it happen again."

"I'm not Porus,"

"No – you're not. You're a brilliant man, someone many people in our world look to for leadership. You're a good man, a better and a braver man than Porus. But I am the same; with the same fears, the same weaknesses. I do love you Albus, and I know that if I tell you I am too afraid to take the risk, you won't ask that I do."

The previous evening she had stepped into his arms and he had known that, by some miracle she loved him. Now, he held the same knowledge – but it was heart breaking. She was right, he couldn't make her face her fears, only she could chose to do that. And he understood why she would not.

This time the great Albus Dumbledore had no solution – there was no ancient magic that would save him, no secret plan that would rescue the damsal in distress. The monsters he faced were hers, yet this was not his fight and he had no weapons to aid her struggles.

"I want to wrap you up with love, promise you that I would never let anything so awful befall you – that I won't treat you the way he did. But, it wouldn't be enough, would it?"

"No." They stood together in silence, until at last she stretched out a hand to him; "I don't know what to do Albus. I don't know how we can go on like this."

"Do you want to dissolve our marriage?" She shook her head and he took heart from that at least. He wrapped his hand around hers, the only physical contact he would allow himself. "Then we go on as before. Our marriage is a matter of convenience, the Governors are convinced by it. We are colleagues, I hope we are friends – I will agree not to pursue a deeper relationship with you Minerva; but I refuse to give you up."

The tears that had been threatening did escape her then; there was a comfort in his pledge as well as the sense of what she was giving up, what she was asking him to give up. But he had understood – which was more than she had expected or hoped for. What he was offering her was something she didn't believe she deserved; a friendship based in love, even though they both accepted that it could go no further.

With their hands clasped together they began the walk back to the school – both knowing the road they faced was not, by any means an easy one, but that it was the one they had both chosen.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

A/N - thanks for the reviews and support for this story. It took an unexpected turn in this part - I hope you think it works.

Part 10

"That cup has been part of the school's china collection for over 200 years. The Reparo spell won't work on it – perhaps you ought to put it down before the worst happens?" Roused from her reverie, Minerva glanced down and discovered that she was clutching the fragile cup just a little too tightly. Sheepishly she placed it back onto the table and looked towards the person who had been so concerned with its safety.

"Thank you Headmaster, although if I were you I'd be more concerned about how the china collection will fare when it has Albus to protect it."

"I shudder to think." They shared a quick smile; "perhaps I should warn the house elves not to let him have access to it too often."

"That might be wise." Her gaze drifted across the room to where the man in question was still absorbed in conversation with the rather beautiful advisor to the Romanian Minister of Magic. As she stretched out a hand to touch Albus' arm, again, Minerva entirely failed to suppress her hiss of annoyance. Although she only realised her response had been audible when Armando started to chuckle.

"You have to give her points for persistence Minerva. She's been trying to seduce him since she arrived. I don't think she is used to being resisted for so long – in fact I don't think she is used to men failing to notice when she is offering, well – everything."

"You think he doesn't realise? I can assure you Albus is very aware of what is going on."

"I'm sure he is – I just think he had decided that appearing not to notice is the best strategy for dealing with the matter without creating what would be tantamount to a diplomatic incident."

Minerva narrowed her eyes – trying to decide if Armando was right. She had scarcely seen Albus in the last few days and there had been no opportunity to quiz him about his latest admirer. "I'm sure Albus wouldn't object to being rescued if you can think of a pretext."

"Our guest doesn't like me much," she commented and though she didn't say that the feeling was mutual, she got the impression that Armando already realised that.

"No, well I'm sure she senses a rival." Minerva knew she must have looked alarmed at this and Armando hastened to reassure her. "She has no idea of the true state of affairs between you and Albus of course – but it's obvious that you are close friends and that might be enough to mark you as a threat, an obstacle in her attempts to well…"

"Seduce my husband," she concluded dryly.

She was glad that Armando had no idea just how complicated things were between them. He probably thought the Governors' requirement that the new headmaster be married had done them a favour – spurred them into formalising their existing relationship. They'd worked very hard to make sure that was what he thought and only occasionally did she feel guilty about just how much they were deceiving him.

Over the course of a long, hard winter she and Albus had struggled to manage their feelings and to find a way to restore their friendship. Spring had arrived just a few weeks ago and with it, finally, had come the feeling that they had survived the worst.

In the long hours before dawn, on the nights when sleep eluded her, she knew that it was her fault, her cowardice. Any other woman would have leapt at the chance of being loved by such a man, of loving him back. Certainly her refusal to allow their relationship to develop made her reaction to seeing him with another woman absurd. But that didn't change the fact that she was used to being the one who was closest to him and now, for whatever reason, he was absorbed by someone else. And she was unsettled.

She knew they would never have found a way to be at ease with each other again had it not been for Albus' determination. He had been the one to instigate the chess games, quiet dinners and fireside chats that had lasted into the early hours of the morning. It must have been difficult for him to sit beside her, hour after hour and not talk about their feelings. But he had asked nothing more of her than her company and gradually they had found a way. It had become, if not easier to be together then at least not so difficult.

She felt as though she knew more about him now than before. Though he was naturally reticent, perhaps even secretive, he had talked to her more about his life, his hopes and his fears. For the first time she had realised just how deeply involved he was in the affairs of the Ministry, how important he was to the ongoing peace and security of their world.

She hadn't exactly reciprocated this candour, but she had spoken a little about her childhood. He was perceptive enough to read between the lines and guess at the details she had omitted. But he had scarcely commented, offering only that he understood now why she had left academia behind to teach a younger age group. The insight was a good one – she'd loved research but hated the insular world of the University; finding it stifling and full of egos. She'd been surprised to feel so at home in an equally closed community. But shaping and guiding young minds had made all the difference in the world.

Their discussion had an interesting side-effect, for the first time in years she was returning to research, gathering material for a series of articles. Her tentative approach to a journal had been met by a surprisingly enthusiastic response. Albus had encouraged her of course, discussing the subject when she had raised it, wary of offering advice unless she directly requested that of him. He had been so careful not to interfere – to ensure that the work was something of her own.

"Is Albus all right?" She looked back at Armando, startled by his question. "He's been looking tired recently. I know taking over as Headmaster feels like a daunting task, but he is more than equal to it Minerva."

"I know he is," she glanced back across the room, taking the time to really look at Albus. Armando was right she decided, he did look tired.

The convenient, easy explanation was that although this was the Easter holidays he'd had little opportunity to take a break. The Governors' had organised a series of events to mark Armando's retirement and Albus' presence at all of these had been mandatory. And that was before the Minister of Magic decided to hold secret, high level talks with a visiting delegation at Hogwarts. It was entirely unreasonable for the school to be at the centre of such political manoeuvrings, for them to be playing host without knowing what was really happening, but there was little they could do to prevent it.

"He has been rather busy in recent weeks," she said, offering the diplomatic answer.

"Perhaps you could exert your influence to get him to rest."

"I can try," she didn't say that her success would entirely depend on the outcome of these discussions. She wasn't naive enough to believe that Hogwarts had been chosen as a venue because of the castle's aesthetics. If politics had come to the school only one reason, or rather one person, had brought it here. "If you'll excuse me," she murmured softly to her companion. His eyes flashed with mischief as she stood.

"Should I expect an international incident?" he enquired.

"Of course not," she replied. "I'm far more subtle than that."

The conversation was not sufficiently absorbing – so Albus had no difficulty in following Minerva's progress across the room. She moved with a controlled grace that reminded him of the cat she sometimes became. He felt familiar warmth spread through him at the realisation that, despite an entirely circuitous route, she was heading in his direction.

He noticed with interest that many people stopped her – trying to involve her into their conversations. She didn't believe it yet, but her appointment as Head of Gryffindor was likely to draw her into the public eye, give her a profile and level of influence that she deserved – even though she might not entirely welcome it.

He was glad to see her smile. It had been a long few months and there had been times when he had feared that she would retreat entirely from him – and from everyone else.

He'd never pursued a woman like this, although, in fact it was scarcely a pursuit. Perhaps he had grown accustomed to women being more interested in him than he was in them. Surely he had never thought so much about his interactions with one person, never tried so hard to peel away his own layers of defences.

For the first time in a very long time he wanted someone to see beyond his strength and abilities. He wanted her to understand what made him vulnerable, what he feared. It was the only way really, the only thing he could do to help Minerva overcome her fears.

There were times when he thought it was working, times when their intimacy, without as much as a kiss or a touch, was staggering. But at other moments he lost hope and believed that things would never change between them. It was some comfort that if they never moved forward they would still have a wonderful friendship – but it wasn't enough.

"Professor Dumbledore?" the sultry voice at his side reminded him that he was neglecting his current companion. He returned his attention to the woman beside him and trepidation replaced the warm glow.

It was perfectly clear that the Romanians were here for a reason, visiting delegations did not randomly descend upon the School – especially when relations between the two countries had been almost non-existent since the end of the war. He didn't believe for a moment that this was a spontaneous good will visit; he had no doubt that there must be something very seriously amiss.

"I'm sorry, my attention wandered for a moment."

"Yes, I can see that." Lucretia Dragomir allowed her gaze to wander in Minerva's direction, her eyes narrowed and he could tell that she was annoyed that he had been watching his fellow teacher so closely. "You've been doing an admirable job of containing your curiosity."

"My curiosity about what?"

"Touche Professor." He knew very well that she would try to use the information she had to entice him. She was intelligent and ambitious and in the political circles she moved in such manoeuvrings were undoubtedly necessary. But this was a different environment and surely, by now, she had realised that he wasn't going to respond to her.

It was irrelevant anyway – because he would find out the Romanians wanted, probably later this evening. And, just at the moment he was more interested in Minerva.

"Good afternoon Professor McGonagall," her travels had finally brought her to their corner of the room.

"Professor Dumbledore, Madam Dragomir." Minerva gave every appearance of being oblivious to the unfriendly look their guest shot her. But he suspected she had given a lot of thought to the way she stepped just a little closer to him, touched his arm and lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Albus, I think the Minister has been trying to find a moment to talk to you for quite a while now."

"Ah, well, perhaps I should not keep him waiting. Thank you for the warning my dear."

Minerva watched him cross the room, completely aware that Madam Dragomir was glaring at her. People often described her as cold and stern, while it was true she found it difficult to express her feelings, she had learnt there were times when this was a decided advantage.

"I hope you are enjoying your stay at Hogwarts," she commented – playing the gracious hostess.

"It is not a question of enjoyment, we are here to deal with a serious matter."

"Of course,"

"But, I think I have underestimated you. You are a far more challenging opponent than I realised." Their gaze locked for a moment and Minerva had no doubt that they were talking about Albus now. The gloves were off and she took a moment – wondering how to respond. She actually considered telling her competitor that she was Madam Dumbledore, and damn the consequences. But, she had not spent months being cautious only to lose her composure now.

"Let me assure you that you have, entirely, misjudged the situation." The words were carefully chosen, and she thought ambiguous. But as she turned away, she realised that Albus had finished his conversation with the Minister and returned to them. The look on his face told her that he had interpreted what he had overheard in a way she had not necessarily intended. She hated how easy it was for her to cause him pain.

But, as though he had realised he had given too much away his expression changed, "Minerva, I am afraid our chess game this evening will have to be postponed. The Minister has asked me to join our Romanian guests for a meeting."

"I understand," she dropped her voice to a whisper, "you think they'll tell you what this is all about?"

"I hope so, will you be awake later if I come to find you?"

"Of course."

* * *

Minerva stood in front of the windows in her study. The night was a fine one, the sky a carpet of indigo, in which stars sparkled like diamonds. She had been thinking a great deal about the moment earlier that afternoon, when her careful words in response to Madam Dragomir had caused Albus pain. 

She wasn't used to being in a position where her words or her actions could have such an impact on another person. She had hurt him, he had made her jealous – it had been a complicated few hours. It was scarcely fair to blame him for her response to seeing him with another woman, especially when he had done nothing to make it appear he was interested in their Rumanian visitor. Actually it was scarcely fair to be jealous when she had told him their relationship could progress no further.

The tap on the door roused her and although she wasn't surprised by the identity of her visitor, she hadn't been expecting to see him wearing a heavy outdoor gown. Albus looked as though his mind was somewhere else, but he smiled and said, "I feel as though I need some fresh air, will you come for a walk with me?"

"Of course, where are we going?"

"Just to the lake." They spoke little as they walked through darkened corridors, and once outside they continued in silence until she could stand it no longer. It was a spectacular evening; the colours more intense than she'd realised from indoors, the air sharp and cold, but she was scarcely aware of that. Her companion's silence was becoming more worrying by the second and though he was beside her, everything about his demeanour screamed distance.

"Albus, what is it? Something to do with the Rumanians?"

"I need to ask for your help."

"I've already married you – isn't that enough?" For a moment she thought she had said the wrong thing, but then he chuckled, his delighted laughter bubbling forth.

"That's very true – I promise this will not be so onerous."

"What is it?"

" I have to go away for a few weeks, perhaps a little longer. I know my Gryffindors will be in the very best of hands with you. I hope you will also cover some of my transfiguration classes – perhaps the sixth and seventh years?" This was not what she had been expecting. It was almost the beginning of term, over the next few weeks there would be exams to prepare for and there was still much to do before he was ready to take over from Armando. And he was leaving?

"Where are you going, why are you going? Albus this is hardly the best time, can't it wait?"

"I'm afraid it can't." He was silent and she knew that he could not, or would not tell her what was taking him away.

"And clearly you can't talk about it. Is it dangerous, can you tell me that at least?"

"It may be dangerous – but I will not be alone."

"I am sure Madam Dragomir will be delighted to have you as a companion." She hadn't meant to say it, but the words escaped her before she could stop them and once uttered they could not be called back. He sighed heavily,

"Think about what you just said to me Minerva, and why. Think about what it means." She wanted to notice that he had not denied that he would be with Madam Dragomir. But all she could think about was the tone of his voice and the intense look in his eyes. She shook her head, trying to break the spell he had cast over her.

"If I promise to do that, will you promise me that you'll be careful?"

"I have every intention of returning." He didn't say that he would be coming back to her, for her. But she heard and felt the words anyway. She hadn't expected to feel like this; frightened, lonely and incredibly vulnerable. She did not want to part from him like this.

"When do you leave?"

"In the morning. I'll be away for a week, two at the most. I'll be back before you know it."

"Will you stay with me tonight?" She didn't think she had ever seen him as stunned as he was in that moment.

"No." He cupped her face with his hands and pressed a gentle kiss onto her forehead. "If you ever make me that offer again, I want it to be because you mean it, because you want to be with me more than anything, not because you are jealous and confused."

She closed her eyes and nodded, expecting him to let her go. But, when she opened her eyes again he was still looking at her, still touching her. He had not said that he was worried, but now, up close, she could see the concern in his face. Although he had refused her offer, she was glad that he had not let her go. She didn't think twice about stepping towards him, about holding him in her arms and offering him the comfort he would not ask for.

She would deal with her own feelings later, for now all she could think about was him.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

A/N - thanks for the reviews and the continuing interest in this story. I think this is the penultimate part.

Part 11

The cart rolled slowly on its path, the occupants feeling every bump along the rutted track. Shifting around, trying to find a comfortable position, Albus reflected that there was nothing more frustrating than having magical modes of transport at your disposal and not being able to use them. He understood the necessity of the agreement the magical Government had come to with their muggle counterparts, but right now he wasn't particularly happy with the results. Still, however slow and painful the progress he was heading inexorably in the right direction. He was on his way home.

He glanced over at his companion. Lucretia Dragomir gave every impression of being deeply asleep, but she could just be ignoring him. Over the last two weeks he had got the impression that she had become bored by his company. It had been several days since she had made any attempt to seduce him, which meant she had probably decided that his charms were as overrated as his conversation. He didn't mind in the least.

He knew her better now. He'd seen beyond her political persona and realised she was a witch of considerable ability. Her ambition and cunning had carried her far in her chosen field, would likely carry her further yet. She would be a useful ally, but he doubted that they would ever be friends. She wasn't the worst person to spend two weeks searching the Romanian countryside with. To illustrate the point, he spent a couple of minutes compiling a list of who the worst people would be and she didn't even make the top ten.

Still, as they had pursued wisps of smoke he had found himself wishing, on more than one occasion, for a logical and insightful analysis of the situation, preferably delivered in a Scottish accent. He had also recognised that a companion who could transform into a small cat, with sharp senses would have been very useful in their investigations. But Minerva was safely back at Hogwarts – and with every excruciating second of the journey he was getting closer to her.

Their last encounter had been on his mind a great deal; there had been little else to think about and certainly nothing that had such potential to absorb him. Her behaviour was confusing and their last moments together had felt hurried and unfinished. But at the same time she had given him tantalising glimpses of what their relationship could be like – if only she overcame her fears. When he was feeling pessimistic he knew that during his absence she might have had time to retreat, to regret what she'd said. Since his arrival here he had been unable to contact anyone, so he had no way of knowing what was on her mind. But still he hoped.

Until the moment she had asked him to spend the night with her he hadn't been certain that what he was loosely terming his 'strategy' was having any effect at all. Faced with her fears he had realised that the only thing he could do was ensure she saw beyond his public persona and understand who he really was. But that wasn't exactly easy to accomplish – especially when his heart told him to press ahead, to confront the issue and find a solution to it. He thought he could probably convince her if he really put his mind to it, the passion in the few kisses they had shared had told him more than she realised about the war raging inside her. But it wasn't his decision to make, there would be no Dumbledore riding to the rescue this time.

It wasn't as if he didn't have other things to worry about. The threat that had brought him to Romania had proven elusive, but very real – they even had a body to prove it. He suspected that this was unlikely to be the last death, which raised another point. Was it right of him to involve Minerva more closely in his world? If the darkness were coming, as he feared it was, then it would be safer for her not to be close to him. But it was too late for that; whatever they had done to keep their marriage a secret might not be enough. She was already in harms way and he had placed her there. Knowing that, how in good conscience could he continue trying to convince her that they were meant to be together? And yet, how could he stop?

Finally they reached Bucharest and he was able to dispense with rustic modes of transport. Lucretia was more than capable of dealing with the authorities in Romania, at some point he knew he would have to speak to the Ministry himself, but it would wait, it would all wait. The only thing he was interested in was getting back to Hogwarts and Minerva.

As he walked from Hogsmeade to the school he felt as though he were breathing easily for the first time in weeks. During his absence the fragile beginnings of spring had taken root, the trees were heavy with blossom and flowers marked the footpath. His thoughts grew fanciful and he imagined spending the summer months with Minerva, walking together in green meadows, sharing picnics and long, lazy afternoons. His footsteps sped up and he almost laughed at himself – it was not dignified for a man of his age and position to be so in love, especially when he remained uncertain of her response. But how could he help himself?

Lucretia's parting comment had left him in no doubt that she understood the reason for his hasty departure. As he bade her farewell she had said, "give my regards to Professor McGonagall. I hope she realises that she is a fortunate woman and a worthy opponent. I underestimated her, not a mistake I will make again." He didn't think it would be wise to pass on her sentiments to Minerva.

As he crossed the wards that protected the castle and its grounds he noted that the tingle of magic was of a slightly different timbre. But he paid it very little heed, assuming that Armando must have strengthened the wards during his absence. His thoughts darkened for a moment at the thought of the trouble that could be coming, he would do anything he could to prevent this world from being caught up in another war – but his best efforts might not be enough. If he failed it would be back to spying, to betrayals and sacrifices, back to the violence and deception that he loathed.

He shook his head, casting aside the thoughts and concentrating instead on his destination. It was mid-afternoon; the students would be busy in lessons so it was unlikely that he would be able to see Minerva straight away. But lessons would be over soon and perhaps they would be able to have afternoon tea together.

He was smiling as he stepped through the large doors; it was good to be home. But his smile faded as he found himself face to face with four of his colleagues – the heads of the other Houses and Minerva. All of them looked sombre and he didn't even take the time to wonder how they had known of his return.

"What's going on?" He asked, looking from face to face, seeking a clue. Inevitably it was Minerva who stepped forwards. She didn't bother keeping a professional distance between them and her eyes were soft with compassion as she touched his arm.

"Albus, I am afraid I have some bad news. The Headmaster died in his sleep two nights ago."

* * *

As she entered her rooms Minerva gave a practised flick of her wand and the black robes she wore were transformed into her comfortable, familiar green ones. How she loathed funerals. 

Crossing to the windows she looked outand saw that the last of the visiting dignitaries were leaving. They had given Armando a dignified send off, but she was sure that everyone had been bitterly aware that they should have been celebrating his retirement. Instead of delivering eulogies they should have been hearing how he planned to occupy his time now that he no longer had a school to run. It just wasn't fair that he had been robbed of the chance to relax and enjoy himself.

She glanced around the room; knowing she should probably start packing. With Armando's death the changes to her role had taken effect earlier than planned. She was now de facto head of Gryffindor and teaching much of the transfiguration curriculum in addition to her own subject. But, she was unsure when she would actually move to her new rooms since Albus was showing a marked reluctance to occupy the Headmaster's suite and as far as she knew was still using his old rooms and study.

Albus. She sighed, looking outside, hoping that perhaps he had decided to take a walk. But there was no sign of him. There was no point pretending that she wasn't worried about him. He had taken Armando's death harder than anyone – probably because he had not been here. If she knew anything at all about the man who, in name at least, was her husband, it was that he had the tendency to hold himself responsible for things that could not possibly be lain at his door.

Over the last two days he had evaded her attempts to talk to him, taking advantage of the fact that they both had much to do, avoiding her at meals and during the evenings. She understood that he wasn't ready to talk about this yet and she had left him in peace, left him to brood. But she wasn't sure how much longer they could go on like this, she didn't want him to deal with this on his own. There was no reason why he should have to.

Until Armando's death her greatest worry had been what Albus' return would mean for their relationship. She had been bewildered by her feelings, by her reaction to another woman's interest in him. She had been in a riot of uncertainty during his absence, her feelings chaotic and confused, her imagination conjuring up a variety of dangers for him to overcome; dark wizards, dangerous beasts – and Lucretia Dragomir's charms.

It was perfectly clear what the next step ought to be, but still her courage had failed her. She could have damned Porus for what he had done to her, but she was reluctant to concede him that much power over her. And, in truth, it was her weakness that scared her, her own capacity to lose herself in another person that made her reluctant to take the risk again. Yet, when she thought about Albus she knew that he would never use that frailty against her, that he would protect her from herself if that was what was needed. Everything about his behaviour indicated that his intended for her to make the choice herself – no matter what it cost him.

She didn't know what to think about that. Or about her growing realisation that any relationship between them would need to be finely balanced. They were complicated people who each had demons, who could cause each other great pain, but who understood the other perhaps better than they understood themselves. No one she knew, not even her own parents, had a relationship even remotely like the one she had now with Albus. She knew that greater intimacy would make the complexity even more apparent. Could she do it?

Suddenly it became a question not of whether she had the courage to overcome her fears but of whether she had the courage to live with someone whose sensitivity and intelligence were as acute as Albus'? Someone who was restraining himself from rescuing her, but who was likely to be called up on to save their world. She had not arrived at an answer to that question when Armando's death had overtaken them.

But in all her musings, in all the vacillations and contradictions of her thoughts she had not, at any point, considered how important her reaction to him hurt and unhappy would be. The truth was she loved him and she could not bear to see him sad.

She shook her head, trying to dispel the thoughts of a decision she knew she was running out of time to make. She needed to work; fortunately there was marking to be done, there was always marking to be done.

The corridors were quiet as she made her way to her classroom. The student body was understandably subdued and the teaching staff was still struggling to come to terms with their loss. Many of them had viewed Armando as a friend and while she had not been as close to him as some, Minerva couldn't help but wish she and Albus had not been deceiving him about their relationship.

She retrieved a bundle of essays from various years; she thought sleep would be slow in coming tonight and that being the case sheintended to use her insomnia productively. She had hoped to bump into Albus on her travels, but there was no sign of him. Reluctantly she conceded that since he was avoiding her, she would have to wait until he came to her. She had to trust that sooner or later he would come to her to talk, to seek comfort.

As she rounded a corner she came upon Nearly Headless Nick, drifting aimlessly along. His expression was as unhappy as everyone else's seemed to be and she wasn't surprised to learn that even the ghosts had been affected by the passing of the Headmaster.

His greeting was decidedly lacklustre, which was fine by her since she was in no mood for cheerfulness. But Sir Nicholas could be a useful source of information and she did not hesitate to ask him if he had seen the new Headmaster.

"I believe after his meeting with the Governors he went to his study, his new study I mean." Well, that was something at least, although she wasn't entirely reassured. "I believe he is still very troubled by Professor Dippet's death."

"Yes," she agreed, "I think so too. But he won't talk to me – at least not at the moment." She glanced over at her companion, realising that as Head of Gryffindor she could ask for his assistance. "Sir Nicholas, would you linger near to the Headmaster's study this evening and, should he emerge and should you have the chance to speak to him, would you tell him that you believe I am still awake?"

"Of course dear lady, you can rely on me." She watched him float away – not at all certain that it would be enough, but what else could she do?

Hours passed, it grew dark outside and her study started to feel cold. She lit a fire, summoned some tea and still there was no sign of Albus. Her marking was all but finished, she was tired and she knew that tomorrow was likely to be a long and a difficult day. But if he came looking for her, if he needed her, she wanted to be here.

She picked up her research notes and tried to concentrate on the latest findings – but the notations and formulas danced before her eyes, making no sense at all. Still she persevered, desperate for an excuse to stay awake.

And then she heard it. Her sharp senses picking up the sound of footsteps outside her door. She could scarcely breathe, terrified that it was her imagination, or even if it were Albus that he would change his mind. The silence was a long one, she dug her nails into her palm to prevent herself from going to the door and opening it. Finally she had her reward, a quiet tap on the door, so soft that had she not been listening carefully she would have missed it.

"Come in." He stepped into the room slowly, she could sense his reluctance and she was certain that one wrong word would cause him to bolt.

"Sir Nicholas said you would still be awake; waiting up for me?"

"Yes," there was no point in denying it. He looked at her properly for the first time since she had broken the news of Armando's death to him and she was almost overwhelmed by the sadness she saw in his eyes. "Come here," she said gently – surprised but relieved when he complied.

As he sat down beside her she reached for him and drew him into her arms. He tried to pull away at first, but she murmured nonsense words of comfort, rubbed soothing circles on his back and finally he relaxed into her embrace.

"It wasn't your fault," she said, stroking his hair, "you couldn't have known, none of us had any idea he was so ill."

"I should have known, I should have been here."

"And he would still have died. It's all right to mourn him, to miss him. But you shouldn't blame yourself for something you could have done nothing to prevent. He died peacefully, Albus."

"I know." They were both silent after that, she didn't know how long they stayed clasped together, drawing solace from one another. At last he pulled back and touched her cheek with trembling fingertips, "Minerva, you are my peace." At his words she closed her eyes, her lashes wet with tears. All the deliberations, all the things that she had worried about were meaningless compared to this.

"And you are mine."

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

A/N - ending is, apparently, difficult.

Part 12

The Seer of Islay was beginning to think he had done something to offend the Gods. A transgression of some kind, he reasoned, could be the only explanation for his having to face Minerva McGonagall for the third time in less than a year.

At least this time she wasn't pointing a wand at him and threatening to transfigure him into something small and furry. Having faced her wrath he was immeasurably grateful that she appeared scarcely aware of his presence. Instead her attention was fixed firmly on the wizard at her side. This time he was pleased to see that she stood before him in robes of deepest green, which shimmered with the early morning sunlight. Added to the loose curls of hair that tumbled around her face and the softness of her smile she looked every inch a woman about to be married. Again.

Beside her Albus Dumbledore looked resolute, but nervous. He had yet to let go of her hand and seemed to have no intention of doing so. Their body language was completely different from that first morning and the glow around them was not completely due to the shards of sunlight.

Their request had been unusual, but one he was able to grant. And, after all, he could tell that he was really marrying them this time – even though he didn't understand why that hadn't been the case the first time around. He really didn't need to know all the details, but his life was so quiet and still, sometimes he couldn't help but become interested in the affairs of others. He suspected that this relationship would be one he would be watching for a long time.

This time, when their wands touched the bright light engulfed them once more. It was a rare enough phenomenon for him to be shocked at experiencing it twice –although they seemed to have been expecting it. When the light cleared they were locked together in a passionate embrace and before he had a chance to congratulate them, the pop of their apparition carried them away to Merlin knew where. Which at least spared him from having to explain what he had seen of their future.

* * *

When they kissed it was difficult to think about anything else. Dimly Minerva recognised that the air around them felt different - clearly they were no longer on Islay. The sound of bird song and the soft spring breeze led her to conclude that in all likelihood Albus had apparated them back to the environs of Hogwarts. If she had been able to spare the attention she would undoubtedly have been grateful that his power and control was such that he could kiss her and apparate at the same time. 

The cautious part of her recognised that they were probably within sight of the school, which meant that despite the early hour there was a possibility that they would be seen. But Albus threaded his hand into her hair, caressing her scalp with long, sensitive fingers and this, combined with the stroke of his tongue against hers, made her caution melt away.

Eventually they parted, breathless, but still touching, their hands clasped together, smiling at each other. Only now did she realise how anxious Albus had been looking – as though he had been half-afraid that she would change her mind. She couldn't blame him, she had put him through so much.

Her memory drifted back to the night when she had finally made her decision. "You are my peace," they had said to each other in the dwindling firelight. But it was not, after all, the final declaration. The words that needed to be said had lingered between them, but they had to be hers and she had known that she owed him no less than the truth.

"I could live like this," she had said taking his hand in hers, "with our friendship as it is now, close but not too close. I could be content with that life, with never having to face my fears. But, I think it would make you very unhappy – and I have already learnt that I can not bear to see you sad. I don't think I could stand to be the cause of your unhappiness."

"You shouldn't decide because of someone else."

"I can't think of a better reason, when you love the someone else in question." And she had drawn him to her and kissed him, letting the passion build slowly and gradually between them. "I love you," she had whispered sometime later, surprised at how sure and certain she'd sounded and how the voice she had spoken with had echoed her feelings.

She was certain. She believed, not in herself, but in the man she had given her heart to. She believed in how determined he had been not to rescue her, she believed that his struggle to overcome his chivalrous nature meant that he understood her own fears. When she thought of the relationship they could have she did not expect it to be simple or uncomplicated – but she knew that this love would not diminish either of them.

And so they had stayed up half the night, kissing, holding each other and hardly speaking. She had felt his relief at her decision and tried not to feel guilty that she had made him wait so long, put him through so much.

Somewhere in those hours, though she was not quite sure when, this plan had been born. She was determined that he would not doubt her, which was why early the following Saturday morning they had repeated their wedding ceremony. He had needed the reassurance, perhaps needed it still – and she was more than happy to give it.

But it was not that simple of course. Albus smiled ruefully and stepped back from her, she squeezed his hand and returned the smile. Though it was a Saturday, they both had duties to fulfil – actually, with Albus now acting as Headmaster and Minerva covering some of his lessons as well as her own and taking over from him as Head of Gryffindor, they were both extremely busy. There would be little time to celebrate their marriage.

"I wish we could spend the day together," he said, "I wish we had time for a honeymoon, but I fear that until the summer we will have little time for ourselves."

"I understand," and of course she did. He gazed at her in silence for a moment and she shivered at his intensity.

"Still, I believe we may be able to find some time alone later," he said, his voice husky. "We could have a private dinner, I am sure there are a number of important matters we need to discuss."

"I'd like that." He touched her cheek with his hand and lifted her hand to his lips. The moment he touched her skin with his lips it was all she could do not to kiss him again. They hadn't made a conscious decision not to consummate their relationship until they had been through the marriage ceremony again – but somehow that was what had happened. The week had been long and tiring – and they both had tasks to complete that day. But she looked into his eyes and all she could think about was tonight.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore sighed heavily as he returned to his study, his footsteps echoing hollowly as he crossed the room. It was dark and slightly cold, as though it had been empty for most of the evening – which it probably had. The house elves had tidied away the dinner they had not touched and the candles he had lit had long since burned out. He was disappointed - even though he had been gone for hours he'd been holding onto a small hope that she would wait up for him. Yet, after the day they had both had he could not blame her for retreating to her own rooms for some sleep. 

The sunrise on Islay and the renewal of their marriage vows felt a long time ago already. She had looked so beautiful and so absolutely determined. When he looked into her eyes he knew that she meant what she said - even if he still struggled to believe it. He knew better than to doubt Minerva, he smiled at the thought of even trying.

As it had turned out that had been the easiest part of the day. He had spent most of the rest of it trying to get to grips with the vast amount of paperwork that had accumulated since Armando's death. He was still, uneasy, about using the Headmaster's study – but the papers he had needed were there, so he had made himself overcome the reluctance. Although he was still not ready to occupy the rooms that went with the study.

By early evening he had dispatched much of the paperwork and his concentration was deserting him. The only pleasant part of the day had been giving instructions to the house elves about their evening meal. He had been determined that it would be special.

He had known that Minerva would not be free to join him until the rest of the school sat down for their evening meal. Between supervising a visit to Hogsmeade, coaching some seventh year students worried about their NEWTS and overseeing a detention - her schedule was as busy as his.

He had been thinking about changing his robes when she'd contacted him. And, though his heart had lifted when her head appeared in the fire, he could have cursed the students of his own House for their appalling timing.

A practical joke gone seriously awry, causing damage and even some injuries. It was apparent to both of them that the Head of Gryffindor would be detained for some time in repairing the common room, making sure the injured received treatment and meting out punishment. He had sighed, said he hoped the offenders were suitably contrite and offered to come and lend a hand with the clear up. She had promised that she could manage, which had left him to concern himself with asking the house elves to keep their meal warm for them.

At that point their night had only been running a little behind schedule. But once things had started going wrong they hadn't stopped. By the time Minerva reached his rooms having dealt with the antics of her students, he had been putting on his cloak.

"The Minister wants to discuss my report on events in Romania – she insists that it must be tonight, I have put her off several times already and I can hardly tell her how I had planned to spend this evening. I'm sorry." She had leant against the door, watching him as he finished putting on his cloak. Her expression had been difficult to read and at first he had thought she was angry. But instead, to his surprise, she had started to laugh.

"It must be difficult, when the universe refuses to heed the wishes of the great Albus Dumbledore,"

"It is inconvenient," he had agreed, delighted that she was teasing him. He had laughed as well, resting his head against hers, "I just want to spend the evening with you. Why can't the Universe co-operate?"

"Don't sulk." She had brushed her thumb over his bottom lip and he'd been amazed by how much her simple touch had affected him. "The sooner you go, the sooner you'll be back."

But she'd been wrong. The Ministry had taken the information he had returned from Romania with extremely seriously. At any other time he would have been relieved that they weren't simply dismissing the news of a growing threat. However, because they were taking it so seriously he had found himself attending a near endless meeting about strategy – it was the early hours of the morning before he got away.

It was fair to say the day had not gone as he had hoped. He wished he could laugh about it, but it meant too much to him. He had wanted everything to be perfect, for Minerva to feel loved and cherished and for their first night together to be filled with joy and passion. It was what she deserved and it was frustrating that events had conspired against them. He knew he was being childish, sulking even. But it was difficult to shake the mood off. He was tempted to stamp his foot and shake his fist at the heavens, but he was too tired to make the effort.

Instead he made his way across the room, hoping that a few hours of sleep would cure him of his bad mood. He was too busy wallowing in disappointment to notice the soft light that crept beneath the bedroom door. Which meant that the sight that greeted him when he opened the door came as a complete surprise – and it took his breath away.

Minerva was curled up in his bed wearing what looked like burgundy pyjamas. Her hair was falling around her shoulders, her glasses were perched on the end of her nose and open in front of her was a large book – which looked a lot like _Hogwarts – A History._ He had never seen her look more beautiful.

"I can't believe you're here," he breathed.

"Where else would I be? These rooms do belong to the Head of Gryffindor." He perched on the edge of the bed, slightly afraid to cross the final distance to her.

"So I'm in the wrong place?"

"No," she closed the book and set it on the bedside table, taking her glasses off and lying them on top of it, "actually you're in exactly the right place. Although, I can't help thinking you'd be more comfortable in bed."

She reached out to him, sliding into his arms and when he started to speak she pressed her hand to his mouth effectively silencing him.

Their eyes met and the irritation of the day simply faded away. They were here, together, what else mattered? And then she brushed her lips to his ear and whispered, "come to bed."

It was an invitation he had no intention of refusing.

The End (except for a very short epilogue)


	13. Chapter 13

A/N - thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story. It's been fun to write and I am glad that people have enjoyed reading it.

Epilogue

A moment ago the room had been full of people and the noise of their chatter, the sense of expectation they exuded, had been on the way to giving him a headache. Now, miraculously the Headmaster's study was quiet and almost empty. The evening was drawing to a close, a soft summer breeze drifted in through the open windows and without all the people the room was becoming cooler again. He was feeling much calmer now.

He didn't care how she had done it; it was enough that Minerva had known exactly what he needed – and made sure that he got it. "Thank you," she smiled at him from across the room.

"I thought a few moments of quiet would help." She'd been right about that and she was also right in her awareness that the other thing he needed was her. He was pleased, but not surprised when she made her way across the room, slid into his arms and rested her head against his chest.

"Do I want to know what you said or did to persuade everyone to leave?" He enquired quietly.

"I used my teacher's voice – amazing how effective it is."

"And did they move obediently like frightened first years?"

"Some of them did, although I am afraid that most of the Board of Governors resembled sulky fifth years."

"I suspected as much." They laughed quietly together and then lapsed into a comfortable silence. After the last few hectic months the opportunity to spend a few moments alone together was too precious to be squandered.

It was early September, the first day of the new school year. The first start of term feast that he would preside over as Headmaster was mere hours away.

Albus couldn't help reflecting on how much change they had both experienced in the last few months. Minerva had changed, although she probably would not want to admit it. Happiness had brought – not relaxation exactly, but she was certainly less tense, some of her sharp edges had smoothed over and the hurried briskness had left her – to be replaced by what he liked to think of as feline grace.

He wasn't going to attribute the whole of that change to their marriage, because some of her joy came from the knowledge that she would be teaching a subject she loved and at facing the challenge of becoming Head of Gryffindor. He knew that she harboured a few nerves about stepping into his shoes, but he was certain that the role would suit her, that she would make it her own.

And they were happy – a fact that perhaps had surprised them both. Maybe struggling so hard over the last year had prepared them, so they had come to the relationship with a clearer sense of both themselves and each other.

Challenges faced them still; there would be another war – he was becoming more and more certain of that. But there was someone to fight beside him, someone to trust with his hopes and fears. It would be very different to fight when there was someone whose happiness mattered to him, whose safety was threatened by their relationship. But he knew better than to suggest that Minerva remained on the sidelines, waiting in safety. After all, when the worst happened he would need her. Her logical mind and robust common sense were a counterpoint to his own more whimsical, esoteric intelligence.

Sometimes Minerva found it very difficult to believe that they had been married for over a year. Sometimes it was difficult to remember that this had come about because the Governors were worried about having an unmarried Headmaster and she had been determined not to allow their ridiculous pronouncement deny the school the Headmaster it deserved and needed. Sometimes it was difficult to remember the woman she had been then.

She knew that she was different and that Albus was allowing her the time and the space to adjust to the change. It was one of the things she loved most about him, although it was often infuriating to be married to someone so insightful and perceptive. She suspected the difference in her would only be apparent to those who knew her well. She didn't expect it to manifest itself in a reduction of the large amounts of homework she gave or in a lessening of the high expectations she had of her students.

The school holidays had passed quickly – too quickly. They had managed to slip away together, but not for as long as either of them would have liked. Of course not everyone got the chance to combine a honeymoon and first wedding anniversary in the same trip. Especially while at the same time pretending that their joint absence from the school was entirely coincidental.

She knew that their lives were never going to be simple, that their marriage would have to remain a secret for all the reasons it had needed to be one originally. While they no longer had to pretend that their relationship was genuine, she was very conscious of the fact that now they had to make sure they didn't reveal their feelings for one another. Still, they had help in keeping the secret.

She smiled at the memory of waking up with Albus the morning after they had renewed their vows and discovering a new doorway in the rooms of the Head of Gryffindor; one that led to the Headmaster's bedroom. They had been trying to decide what to do about their living arrangements and she had been concerned about his reluctance to move into his new abode – but the castle had made the decision for them.

Despite Armando's death and his fears of a coming war, Albus was happy. It was surprising how important it was to her that this was the case, and to know that she had contributed to his happiness was something that made her happy in return.

From experience she knew they could remain here, like this, for a long time; together and yet separate, changed but not lessened, stronger for their partnership and not diminished by it. But there was still a lot to do and some of it had to be done today. Gently she stepped back from him and when she looked up she could see his amusement.

"I suppose you are going to tell me that duty calls, Professor McGonagall?"

"Indeed I am Headmaster – the first years won't sort themselves."

"Perhaps I should try to find a way to accomplish that, then we could spend the evening here?"

"I don't think that would be at all appropriate."

"You're right – unfortunately." He glanced at the large pile of papers on his desk. "I wrote a speech you know, although at the moment I can't seem to recall what I've done with it."

"Albus, I doubt you'll need it."

"It was a very good speech." He looked around as though he expected it to appear out of thin air and, of course he could summon it, although she wasn't sure that would help. There were probably lots of bits of paper that he had written the beginnings of speeches on.

"Nevertheless. I suspect you know exactly what you need to say."

As it turned out Minerva was right. With the Sorting over and the school assembled before him it was easy to find the words, to welcome the students, to explain the changes in the teaching staff and remind them that the aptly named Forbidden Forest was, indeed, forbidden.

Weeks later, Minerva found the speech in the pocket of one of his robes. Having read it she handed it over to him, agreeing that it was very good and suggesting that he keep it in a safe place so he could use it at next years welcome feast. Unfortunately, quite soon after that she complained of a headache, which led to her husband offering to unfasten the tight bun she wore her hair in, which led – as it frequently did - to other things. As a consequence the speech was quite forgotten, but neither of them noticed.

The End


End file.
